Harry Potter and the Spirits Within
by Power of Erised
Summary: The night that Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son. Lots of OOC-ness!
1. 1 Prologue

Harry Potter and the Spirits Within

Chapter 1: Prologue

_Summary: The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son._

_Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own (or live in, magic rocks) the 'Potterverse' … I do not._

**A/N: Based on a plot line I found (and lost) on this site long ago. There will be Dumbles, Dursley (duh!), and Ron, Molly, and mild Ginny bashing. This will have eventual shipping, not sure who yet (suggestions welcome). It will keep with basic cannon info (i.e. Snapes' reasoning in HP7 before/after his death.)**

**This is written under the assumption that readers have already read the seven canon books. There will be references to spells and abilities without their definitions (i.e. Occlumency) as well as spoilers for _all_ books throughout. You Have Been Warned (spooky music). Also, I am doing my best, as an American, writing a British based fic to keep the words, spellings, and phrases accurate. However, any brit-picking is much appreciated.**

**A/N II: Completely re-written by popular demand, making more sense and including more detail.**

The muggle village of Godric's Hollow has, for over a thousand years, had a notable wizarding history that quite possibly included the birthplace of Hogwarts co-founder Godric Gryffindor. Appearing to be just another village to muggles, its magical residents have included Ignotus Peverell of the infamous Peverell brothers, Albus Dumbledore; Chief Warlock, Grand Sorcerer, Supreme Mugwump, and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Bathilda Bagshot; author of 'A History of Magic', and Bowman Wright; inventor of the Golden Snitch in the 1300s.

At the heart of the community was the picturesque village square with a post office, a pub, and a steepled church complete with a small graveyard behind it. On the outskirts of this quiet village was the residence of the Potter family. Starting with a low wall and trellised kissing gate that was surrounding an overflowing garden and the house itself, the quaint country cottage was a two-story red-brick structure and was the home of James, Lily and fifteen-month-old Harry Potter.

James Potter smiled as his wand emitted puff after puff of multi-coloured smoke balls to the delight of his infant son. Harry burbled and squealed as he tried to catch the miniature clouds. Lily Potter came in from the kitchen, drying her hands on a dish towel. Though she was a witch, her muggle upbringing had her occasionally doing chores by hand, or 'the muggle way' as James put it. "Alright you two," she said with a smile, "bedtime." James stood, scooping Harry from the floor, and handing him to Lily. Tossing his wand to the couch, he stretched and turned to follow his family upstairs.

A loud blast suddenly echoed from the front hall. Without a thought, James bolted to the entryway. There, framed in the broken doorway, stood Lord Voldemort. James' blood ran cold. Though it was true that James and Lily had defied the self proclaimed Dark Lord on three occasions before, none who had actually fought against this evil wizard had lived, let alone bested him in a duel. James defiantly looked into the face twisted by Dark Magic, the man was hideous, or perhaps "it" would be a more accurate pronoun. However, James bravely stood his ground, "Lily! Take Harry and go!" he yelled, "It's him! Run! I'll hold him off!"

It was then that he remembered tossing his wand on the couch, secure in the thought that the Fidelius Charm and his trust in Peter would keep them safe, it was now obvious that Peter Pettigrew, his boyhood friend, had betrayed them. He picked up a lamp from the side table in the foyer and threw it with all the strength and accuracy being a professional Quidditch Chaser had given him. But it was shattered in midair along with any hope of living to see November first.

The wicked spell was a deadly shade of green, and was accompanied by a sound reminiscent of wind rushing down a tunnel. There was no known counter-curse or blocking spell, if you are struck with it, you die, period. It is deemed an unforgivable curse, and the use of it against another human is punishable by a life sentence in the wizarding prison of Azkaban, where soul-sucking ethereal prison guards drain away your happiness and sanity. James Potter's last thoughts were of his wife and son, of how much he loved them; and he promised, in his final instant of life, that he would always be with them, to watch over them, and to protect them. In whatever way he could.

~*oo*~

Lily raced up the stairs, cradling Harry to her chest; she bolted in to the nursery and placed Harry in his crib. Prophecy be damned, her maternal instinct still roared like the lioness she was. She reached in to her pocket, only to remember that her wand was in the kitchen… downstairs. She rubbed her baby boys' cheek tenderly, and smiled. Tears ran down her cheeks and splashed, scattering Harry's face and pillow with diamond like droplets.

She had barricaded the door with everything she could lay her hands on, including the dresser and changing table. However, it was nowhere near enough to slow down, let alone stop, arguably the darkest of the dark wizards to exist in the last half century. A single blast of magic obliterated not only the door, but also her impromptu barricade leaving her standing defenseless against the Dark Lord. There was no choice; there never is a choice for a mother who loves her child. She stood in the depraved mans path, and did the only thing she could do: Beg for her child's life, "Not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl … stand aside." His voice held something that simply radiated evil, malice, and hatred, "Now."

She refused to budge, "Not Harry, Please no, take me, kill me instead!" She bargained desperately.

"This is my last warning." Something, not so much a spell, but a blast of pure magic, a show of his power, burned a furrow across the floor and in to the wall, leaving a smoldering black groove.

"Not Harry! Please … have mercy … have mercy … not Harry! Not Harry! Please – I'll do anything!" She cried desperately, no budging from her position in front of her son, though the blast of magic had nearly hit her foot.

"Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!" He laughed, finally raising his wand to her. Lily's mind worked frantically, she needed to protect Harry, no matter what. As the horrid jade spell sped towards her, she glanced over her shoulder, locking matching emerald eyes for the briefest of moments with her beloved baby boy. Her dying thought, as the spell struck her chest, was a promise to him that she would always be with him.

The spirit of James Potter stood helplessly as the mortal remains of his wife crumpled to the floor. All he could do was stand and watch, unable to render any assistance or help. He cursed Voldemort, Peter, and most of all himself for failing to protect that which mattered most: His family.

Lily's spirit rose from her body, invisible to those of the living, including her poor son. She met James' ethereal gaze, and ghostly tears blossomed in their eyes as Voldemort closed the distance to his last victim and raised his Yew wand, taking aim at little Harry Potter. Both Lily and James charged to him on pure instinct and overlapped each other, together forming a protective barrier between their son and their most hated enemy. For the third time that fateful evening, a jet of viridian light leapt from the wand's tip.

Suddenly there was hellish chaos. Deafening screams, jumbled images, and wild emotions slammed and pummeled the unprepared spirits from all sides. Occlumency and Legillimency, the strongest of the Mind Magics, are not common or even widely known branches of magic, but the two members of the Order of the Phoenix had learned any and all magic to protect themselves both on and off the battlefield, especially after hearing the terrible prophecy. As the loving bond that united them in life, united them in death, they shielded their minds together from the overwhelming onslaught. Their interconnected protective barriers could only stand so long against the deluge however. Until, finally overpowered, both mother and father succumbed to the comforting embrace of unconscious darkness and blessed silence.

~*oo*~

James awoke to a sky full of dancing colours. They reminded him, oddly enough, of the puffs of smoke he had been creating for Harry. Dazed and confused, the world seemed to shudder and skip around him, until everything came in to focus, and more importantly, the memories flooded back. Lily! Harry! Voldemort! The Killing Curse! Bolting upright and looking around, he saw that the swirling colors made up the ceiling and floor of a square room. The walls, however, reminded him of his own occlumency barriers… but with something different; with new, unfamiliar colours oddly blended and mixed with his own.

He spotted Lily across the 'room' and rushed over to her. Her emerald green eyes, so similar to their son's beautiful eyes, opened as he knelt beside her. Lily sat up slowly, taking in their surroundings. She looked sadly at James, "We're not dreaming, are we?"

James shook his head sorrowfully, "No Lily, we died. Last I remember we were trying to shield Harry from Voldemort."

She nodded slowly, "So where are we now? The walls remind me somewhat of my occlumency barriers, but what are all these colours?"

James' face suddenly brightened in revelation, "These walls are _our_ barriers; they've joined together, meshing and interweaving. I remember putting up shields from an onslaught of sound and memories." Still kneeling, he placed a hand on the multi-coloured floor, "The ceiling and floor remind me of the smoke balls I was making for Harry."

Lily's eyes lit with her own revelation, "We're _inside_ Harry's mind?" She stood and went to a wall, placing her own hand upon it, "So what happens if we lower our shields?"

James shrugged, "Judging from what we heard and saw before the shields went up, I'm guessing we'll hear and see what Harry does. He's too young for complex thought yet, so we can't really talk with him, but I imagine we can send emotions to him, basic feelings of love, joy, happiness, and peace."

Lily nodded, "So if he's still upset we can calm him." She took her hand off the wall and laced her fingers through those of her husband. "Ok, let's do it on three." She said nervously.

They braced themselves and counted down, dropping the barriers together, ready for the assault on their senses. The walls faded, the colours brightened, and there was ... nothing. Then they noticed a low pitched rumbling permeating their surroundings.

"He must be asleep," said James thoughtfully, "That's why we don't see anything; the colours must be his dream, and the rumbling must be part of his surroundings." He cocked his head to the side listening intently, "It sounds like Padfoot's motorbike."

A mix of relief and worry passed over Lily's face, "So Sirius has him. Although I'd prefer he not take Harry on that bike, Harry's too young to hold on, especially while sleeping, and Sirius needs both hands to work the controls."

James patted Lily's hand in his, "They'll be alright, and Padfoot could always conjure a sling or side car for him."

Lily smiled at her thoughtlessness, forgetting about magic was something she still did on rare occasions when deeply strained. She then jumped as the rumbling stopped. She opened her mouth, wondering where they were, when they heard a voice they were not expecting, saying a name they were not happy with: "Hagrid, at last. And where did you get that motorcycle?" came the unmistakable voice of Albus Dumbledore.

"WHAT!" Lily and James yelled, drowning out part of Hagrid's response. Asleep as he was, Harry still jerked, almost as if in sympathetic pain to what his parents were feeling. Despite everything, his parents were barely able to calm themselves, to wait, to see just what was unfolding about them.

"... Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."

"No problems were there?" Dumbledore asked.

"No sir," Hagrid replied, "house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."

There was silence for a moment and James looked at Lily in confusion, "Bristol? Where would they be going to need to fly over Bristol?"

As Lily was pondering this a new voice spoke in a whisper, "Is that where -?"Lily and James gaped at each other, recognizing the short, clipped tones of Professor McGonagall, and wondering what in Merlin's name was going on.

Albus spoke again, "Yes, he'll have that scar forever."

Their faces drained of color, _scar_?

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?" McGonagall asked, echoed by the nods of Harry's ghostly parents.

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy ..." he stated as James and Lily's faces reddened, looking livid, "I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well – give him here, Hagrid – we'd better get this over with."

"Get _what_ over with?" Lily asked dangerously.

James was saved from answering by Hagrid speaking again, "Could I – could I say good-bye to him, sir?"

There was no answer until there came a howl like a wounded dog, and both spirits jumped in surprise.

"Shhh! You'll wake the muggles," said Professor McGonagall.

"Muggles?" James asked, completely bewildered. Lily's face, however, had once again drained of colour. She did not need to see out of her son's eyes to know where they where: A street with identical cookie cutter houses, and pristine "golf course" cut lawns.

"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, "But I c-c-can't stand it – Lily an' James dead – an' poor little Harry off ter live with muggles."

Trapped within the confines of his son's mind, James went from confused to enraged in a split second in realization, as tears started streaming down Lily's face, "Oh, James!" she cried, "They're leaving him with my _sister_!"

James pulled her into an embrace, knowing he could do nothing besides hold his wife in his arms, and rage in silence. Damn Voldemort! Damn the Order! Damn the Ministry for its cowardice! Above all else however, thought James Potter savagely, Damn Dumbledore for his blasted interference!

**A/N: Reviews are appreciated and help to flesh out the story more; any constructive comments, requests, or critiques are welcome and encouraged. However, derogatory flames and comments along the lines of "you're writing/story sucks" are rude, childish, and betray the low I.Q. level of the commenter. If you don't enjoy the story there are exactly 455,980 (as of this posting) other Harry Potter stories on this website, read one of them.**

6


	2. 2 Through the Eyes of a Child

Chapter 2: Through the Eyes of a Child

_Summary: The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son._

_Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own (or live in, magic rocks) the 'Potterverse' … I do not._

**A/N: Special thanks to **_**Zirconium1**_** who discovered that the inspiration for this story was in fact ****teacherbev's**** incomplete work titled 'A Father's Love'. Thank you for finding it for me, it was wonderful to be able to read it again. ****Teacherbev**** has a flair for details that borders on the insane, and I mean that as a complement.**

**A/N 2: Parseltongue will be in **_**italics**_**, to easily differentiate between it and human speech. Also, anyone who has either owned a snake, or done any sort of research on them knows that snakes ****do not**** have eyelids. They actually have clear scales over their eyes that turn milky when preparing to shed (and are a pain in the butt to remove if they don't come off in the shedding process, ball pythons are awesome pets, but have some of the patchiest sheds I've ever seen). Because of this fact, the snakes in my story will not blink, wink, or do anything else to denote having anatomically incorrect body parts, like they do in Canon. No offence J.K., just one of my lil' Canon nitpicks.**

There could be no denying the terrible cruelty that the Dursley's inflicted upon the unwanted child in their home. The first few years marched on and his parents did all they could from within their son's mind to dampen the overt hatred of his own blood relations. They couldn't prevent his being put in the cupboard beneath the stairs to sleep, but they were able to give Harry love and acceptance for every degrading comment or derogatory slur. Lily would sing to him every night, seeming to brighten the gloom, and James would regale him with tales of his school days during the long hours in the cupboard. They taught him to read with Dudley's unwanted and forgotten books, and told him everything they knew about the wizarding world, sharing some images of their own memories within Harry's dreams.

Together, James and Lily explored Harry's mind, sorting through his scattered thoughts and memories, classifying and categorizing everything. After all, they knew the prophecy, and what it would mean for their son eventually. They hadn't yet told Harry the contents of the prophecy, just that there was one; they planned to do so when he turned eleven, before going to Hogwarts. They were being realistic about the likelihood of Dumbledore telling Harry about it. They also worked to prepare both themselves and him, for the day when he would need the esoteric branches of magic like Occlumency; and with their own shields backing his own, anyone attempting to break in to the mind of Harry Potter would be in for more than a nasty surprise.

Most worrying of all was their almost immediate discovery of the link to…something. It hung in a corner of Harry's mind, a malignant tumour that seemed to ooze malice but otherwise appeared to just be biding its time. Working together they erected the strongest barriers they could, meshing and interweaving them together and walling off the ominous connection completely.

Through their exploration, organization, and protection of Harry's mind they discovered they could create and build objects within his mind. They recreated their home in Godric's Hollow over many months as they last remembered it, adding a full size Quidditch Pitch and an overflowing flower garden. They placed all of Harry's memories in the library, ready for when he could achieve the level of meditation necessary to enter his own mindscape.

A side effect of organizing their son's mind occurred when they stopped being able to see everything Harry saw as if looking through his eyes. A little more exploration revealed a section of his mind that acted almost like a muggle cinema, a window to the outside hanging in the air. After Lily explained the concept of a cinema to her husband, they created one and connected it to Godric's Hollow, so they could see what he needed and wanted them to see and kept private what he wanted to keep private, like bathroom visits and, later on in life ... other things. For, as far as they knew, their situation was permanent.

~*oo*~

Time inevitably marched on, and Harry grew. Ignoring the Dursley's as much as possible, spending time in mental conversation with his parents. At the age of five he began Primary School with Dudley, even though he'd never had the luxury of attending nursery school – like Dudley - before primary school. The first time he came 'home' with better marks than Dudley, the only reward for his hard work was to be locked in his cupboard. James and Lily detested the fact that their son was forced to sleep in a space meant for muddy boots, but until Harry grew old enough to do something about it himself, they were powerless. They had realized just how little they could change within the Dursley household on Harry's first day of school. Harry had told his teacher, innocently, of the room he slept in, as if it were a normal thing to do. Her face had drained of colour and she had disappeared to the office during lunch. But the next day she seemed unaware of anything being amiss and when Harry repeated his living conditions she seemed to get a sudden headache. Lily had worked for St. Mungo's, the Wizarding Hospital, before Harry's birth and recognized the symptoms of a Memory Modification. There would be no help from the school, or apparently the magical world, for Harry.

Not for no reason was James Potter one of the ringleaders of the Marauders, however. After a moment of thought, he had a splendid idea. Then, with Lily's somewhat unwilling help, they enacted a plan to prevent further confinement from coming to Harry, especially over grades: False marks.

Following his fathers' lead, Harry snuck into his teachers' desk during recess and pilfered one of the blank progress reports, then headed to the library and the copy machine. After some practice Harry was able to forge his teachers' signature, and put down marks that wouldn't get him in trouble. When Vernon signed the fake form Harry forged _his_ signature on the real one. Thus he was able to do well in school without risking the ire of the Dursleys.

It took Harry many weeks of constant effort, but with his parent's guidance, and the groundwork of an organized mind he was able to visualize the door behind closed eyes and step in to his mindscape for the first time at the age of seven. The reunion within his mind was one of tearful happiness. Unwilling as they were, his parents used this opportunity to explain everything that they could; showing him the blocked link, their theory as to why they were in his mind, about the war and Voldemort. They showed him the organization they'd done of his memories, and taught him how to put new memories directly into his 'library'. They also taught him to sense and harness his magical core, to make his 'accidental magic' not quite so accidental.

As soon as Harry started having bouts of accidental magic James and Lily helped him work through it so that it's either reversed before anyone notices, or easily explained. When Petunia cut all his hair off and it's back by morning, Harry was able to convince them that he would have attracted more attention to the Dursleys with the outlandish new style that with his normal shaggy locks, and he wasn't punished. When he ended up on the roof of the school kitchens they were able to guide him back through the accidental apparition, coaching him through the basics of strong desire and intent, to get him back on the ground with none the wiser.

When The Dursleys started leaving Harry at Mrs. Figg's James and Lily didn't know whether to laugh at the irony of the Dursleys leaving Harry with the only magically aware person in the neighbourhood, or curse Dumbledore for introducing Harry to magic so sparingly; for Arabella Figg was a Squib and a member of the Order of the Phoenix. After a few visits of Mrs. Figg acting nothing but muggle however, they realized that she wasn't going to tell him _anything, _and their frustration with the old wizard grew. They tried to rationalize that the Headmaster was at least keeping an eye on Harry, but the rarity of his visits to Mrs. Figg's made this seem a half-hearted effort at best.

Lily then had her own brilliant idea, Harry offered to do the yard work for Mrs. Figg and was paid ten pounds for his efforts; he then went to the local mini-mart and purchased a disposable camera. When the Dursleys went out to dinner one night, leaving Harry to fend for himself, Harry took copious photos of his cupboard, Dudley's two rooms, and the guest room, showing that the Dursleys had the room to board him properly, and never had. The following day he went back to the mini-mart and had them developed; he now had proof of their neglect.

~*oo*~

It was Dudley's 11th birthday and Petunia was not happy. She hung up the phone in the hall and turned to Vernon with a sour expression on her face; apparently Mrs. Figg had broken her leg and couldn't watch Harry. After exasperatingly vapid suggestions from Petunia, extensive false blubbering from Dudley, and not-so-subtle threats from Vernon, Harry was on his way to the London Zoo for the first time. He was squished against the car door by Dudley's girth, in a comic attempt to make space for the small, rake like, rat faced Piers Polkiss. But Harry couldn't care less about the discomfort of the trip: the zoo was in London.

Harry and his parents had been planning to attempt another escape from the Dursleys this day, to sneak away from Mrs. Figg before they returned. Their first try had been when he was seven, a week after he had entered his mindscape the first time, he had gotten as far as the small park down the street, attempted to hail the Knight Bus without a wand, and failed. He didn't have enough control over his magic to summon the triple-decker transportation.

This unexpected trip to the zoo put them much closer to their goal of the Wizarding Pub; The Leakey Cauldron, and the entrance to Diagon Alley. They had tried on previous occasions after Harry gained sufficient control of his magic to escape Privet Drive, but Harry's waifish size and overlarge clothing had made him appear even younger than he was and drew the attention of unwanted eyes. Various police officers had already had their memories modified after stopping him and hearing of his abuse, and they didn't want the Magical world to realize what Harry was trying to do. Specifically they didn't want Dumbledore to realize it, as it was obvious he wanted Harry to stay with the Dursleys for some unfathomable reason.

Harry had the best morning he'd ever had outside his own head. After all, visiting his parents, who shared love and happy times with him, was far better than being around the hateful Dursleys. He got a lemon pop at the front gate, got to see a gorilla that could be related to Dudley, got to finish Dudley's ice cream when the gorilla in training threw a fit; demanding a bigger one, and he knew he was spending his last day with the Dursleys.

As they entered the reptile house Harry dropped back a few metres to avoid the Dursleys and Polkiss, an idea coming to him. Years ago when weeding Petunia's garden, Harry had found a garden snake and discovered his Parseltongue abilities. Befriending the reptile had lead to a curiosity about snakes and he had, before long, become something of an expert on the subject, even if he shared his knowledge with practically no one. Today was an opportunity to talk to the rare, foreign snakes the zoo housed, and perhaps, acquire a new friend. Glancing around the corner, Harry saw the Dursleys harassing the Brazilian Boa Constrictor, and ducked back around the corner before he was spotted.

The sign on the enclosure beside him read "Africa's Deadliest Snake." Harry smiled, this looked promising. Another sign identified the inhabitant as a female Black Mamba with a rather scary description: 'These snakes are large, alert, and aggressive in their personal defence - they are one of the most feared snakes on the African continent'. Harry peeked around the corner again, noting the Dursleys had only moved down two exhibits, and turned his attention to the case before him. Searching briefly, he located the scaly inhabitant, and blinked. This snake was not black, she was grey; a beautiful pearly iridescent grey, but grey nonetheless.

Shooting another look at the Dursleys, Harry leaned close to the glass and hissed, _"Excuse me, Miss Mamba? I was wondering why you're called a Black Mamba when your scales are a lovely grey."_

She seemed surprised at the question, cocking her head to the side as if appraising him. Finally she raised her head to Harry's eye level and opened her mouth wide, revealing an inky midnight black interior. Harry's eyebrows rose and he smiled. Glancing once more at his 'relations' he leaned close again, "_Ah, well that explains it. You're quite beautiful, if I may say so."_

She lowered her head to the side, looking demurely embarrassed. With one final peek at the Dursleys, Harry placed a hand against the glass and whispered to her, _"Would you like to come live with me?"_

Harry hadn't realized that snakes could look shocked but, after a moment, she composed herself and nodded. Harry turned his thoughts inwards, "How should I go about this?" he asked his parents.

"Concentrate on the glass," Lily instructed, "Focus on every detail. Now channel it through the hand on the glass and make it disappear. Harness your magic, and send it in to glass."

Harry followed her directions and, with encouragement, Vanished the glass of the enclosure. The Black Mamba eagerly slithered her way on to Harry's hand and then coiled herself inside one of his over-large pockets. Turning his attention back to the exhibit, concentration and desire to replace the glass paid off, though sweat dripped down his brow at the effort involved; but the pane of glass was back to normal. Stepping away from the display, he rounded the corner and slammed, or rather squished, into the rotund gut of Vernon Dursley. His uncle grabbed his upper arm in a vice-like grip and leaned in close, "If you don't keep up with us, boy, you'll be spending the trip home in the boot." He snarled as his grip tightened to bruising strength. The corpulent swine almost hurled Harry back several paces before thundering to the exit door of the reptile house.

Harry glanced around, obviously Vernon, he refused to call his relations by anything other than their names when he thought of them, had expected Harry to follow immediately after him. All three Dursleys and the Polkiss boy had already gone out the exit door. Seizing his opportunity, Harry turned and went back out the reptile house entrance and made his way to the main entrance of the zoo. As he passed the gates and headed down the path toward main London, his smile grew and his parents cheered, they were free.

~*oo*~

Ten minutes later, on a semi-hidden bench in St. James Park, Harry pulled his new friend from his pocket, and leaned back against the wooden backrest of the bench. Holding her up, he saw how truly beautiful she was. Almost a metre and a half with iridescent grey scales on her back and creamy yellow scales on her belly, coal grey eyes, and of course her jet black mouth and tongue. He smiled at her as she twined herself around his raised hands, making herself comfortable. Looking to Harry she hissed, _"Thank you for releasing me from that prison. I know the humans there mean well, but I was not meant to be kept in a box. Besides which they kept stealing my eggs."_

Harry blinked in surprise, _"You've laid eggs? They must have a male there too then, should we go back and try to get him out too, or any of your babies?" _

She shook her head from side to side in obvious negation, and took a look around their sheltered surroundings and the overhanging branches, _"My last clutch of young have since grown and been taken to other such prisons, and the male was also from yet a different prison, and I was the only one of my breed there."_

Harry nodded to her, thinking that she was right to call the zoo a prison from her perspective, and turned his thoughts inwards, "Well, I'm glad we got her out then, she shouldn't have to live like that. I only wish we could do the same for the other snakes and animals that are unhappy there."

"We know how you feel Harry, dear." Lily said, "But, unfortunately, we can't save everyone. This is important for you especially to know, sometimes there will be people, creatures, or animals that you cannot save or help, much as you would want to, and it won't be your fault should that happen, understand?"

Harry nodded, "I think so, thanks Mum, Dad." He sighed deeply, "So, what should we name her?"

"What do you think about Zuri?" James asked, "Its Swahili for beautiful, kind of a nod to her homeland."

Harry nodded again and turned his thoughts outward again, _"Would you like me to call you Zuri, it means beautiful in Swahili?"_

She thought for a moment then nodded, _"I'd like that. What should I call you?"_

Harry laughed, _"Sorry, my name is Harry."_

She cocked her head to the side, _"And what of those within you, the ones you were speaking to a moment ago?"_

Harry gaped at her, _"How do you know about them?"_

"_Your eyes get vacant when you talk to them, easy enough to detect in this dappled lighting and your eyes flicker when a different one starts talking. Am I right in guessing there are only two of them?" _She asked with an amused hiss.

Harry nodded dumbly, _"Yes, they are my parents. They were killed when I was young and their spirits live inside me."_

"_That's good," _she said nodding, _"reptiles in general don't really have a family structure; once our young hatch they are on their own. But I have learned of human families by observing those that came to my prison. Human young need their parents, I am happy that you still have yours in some form."_

Harry smiled broadly at her, _"Zuri, I think this is the beginnings of a wonderful friendship."_ He said_, _remembering the line from an old movie he'd never seen, only ever heard through the door of the cupboard under the stairs, pleased to be able to not refer to it as 'his' any longer.

**A/N: Reviews are appreciated and help to flesh out the story more; any constructive comments, requests, or critiques are welcome and encouraged. However, derogatory flames and comments along the lines of "you're writing/story sucks" are rude, childish, and betray the low I.Q. level of the commenter. If you don't enjoy the story there are over 455,980 other Harry Potter stories on this website alone, read one of them.**

**A/N 2: If you are wondering why I chose a black mamba for Harry to befriend, originally it was only because they are my favourite venomous snake (ball python being my favourite constrictor), however when researching whether or not the London Zoo even housed black mambas, I came upon this entry in the London Zoo wiki: '**_**In 2000 the Burmese python scene from the 2001 film **__**Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone**__** was filmed at the Zoo's Reptile House. In the film the inhabitant of the tank is a Burmese python, however in reality it is home to a black mamba. A plaque beside the enclosure commemorates the event.' **_**So in honor of the enclosures original inhabitant, Harry's snake is a black mamba.**

**A/N 3: the ZSL London Zoo is only .9 miles or a 20 minute walk from Charring Cross Rd. where the Leakey Cauldron is, according to Google Maps. The route passes by St. James Park, a real park; I thought that was rather neat, Harry's dad's name being James and all. **

4


	3. 3 The World They Knew

Chapter 3: The World They Knew

_Summary: The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son._

_Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own (or live in, magic rocks) the 'Potterverse' … I do not._

**A/N: Muggle to Magical monetary conversions are done via the ****Wizarding World Currency Converter**** on the ****Harry Potter Lexicon****, the shop locations are taken from the ****Diagon Alley Map**** from the same site.**

As the days went slowly by Harry and his parents grew more and more anxious, waiting for the arrival of a very special piece of post. He had arrived at the Leakey Cauldron a mere thirty minutes walk after his escape from Durs-kaban, as he liked to call it, via the zoo and a ten minute break in the park, and had booked a room for the three months until September First, after a less than entertaining visit to Gringotts Wizarding Bank.

The Pub had been dark and seemed slightly shabby. Those present were scattered about the room on small low slung tables with armchairs that ranged from overstuffed to thread bare. With a confidence he wasn't too sure he actually felt, Harry made his way towards the barman, who was busy wiping the counter, and cleared his throat, "Excuse me? I was wondering if I could book a room until school starts, I'll have to get to Gringotts first to pay for the room, though. Also I need you to open the way to Diagon Alley for me."

Tom the barman looked up from the spot of countertop he was cleaning, he studied Harry's face for a moment as if trying to determine the sort of person he was, before his spotted the scar on his forehead. He paled, mouthed 'Harry Potter', and looked about ready to start shouting before Harry held up his hand. He'd had several occasions growing up where a stranger would wave or smile at him, one even bowed to him while he was in a shop and then disappeared shortly afterwards. His parents had been able to recognize the one who'd bowed as a member of the Order that Dumbledore had founded, and surmised that Harry's combined survival of the Killing Curse and destruction of Voldemort had made him into an infant celebrity.

"Now please, none of that," He said, "I know I'm something of an icon, but I would like to go about my day incognito, if you don't mind. I can't very well do my shopping if there is a crowd of well wishers surrounding me."

"Certainly ... young sir," He said, revealing a toothless mouth, "I'll start you up a tab, you'll be staying in room eleven." He took a brass key from a hook and handed it to Harry. "If you'll follow me, I'll open the alley for you."

Tom led him back to the courtyard behind the pub and tapped the bricks of a certain wall with his wand. Harry paid close attention so as to remember the pattern, noting that the bricks to tap each had obvious wear marks from the millions upon millions of times they had been struck. As the archway swelled into existence, Tom inclined his head to Harry and spoke in a low murmur.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley, Mr. Potter, and may I be the first to say, welcome home."

~*oo*~

There would always be things, events, moments in life that you cannot prepare for. Despite everything his parents had told him, none of it could compare to the simple awesomeness of the sight before him. The sun shone down from a sky dotted with puffy white clouds, illuminating store signs for what seemed like miles in front of him along a winding street paved with shining cobblestones, worn flat and smooth from the centuries of foot traffic:

"_Cauldrons — All Sizes — Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver — Self-Stirring — Collapsible__!"_

Moving into the remarkable alley he passed an apothecary, the whole place smelling quite horrible, a mixture of bad eggs and rotten cabbage. A low, soft hooting and the smell of sawdust came from a dark, shuttered shop with a hanging sign that read:

"_Eeylops Owl Emporium — Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy__.__"_

Several boys of about Harry's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it, the Quidditch shop according to Dad. There were shops selling robes and shops selling telescopes, scales, and strange silver and gold instruments Harry had never seen before. Windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, and small globes of the moon beside larger globes of the entire galaxy … and then, partway down Diagon Alley, near an intersection with another, darker seeming lane called Knockturn Alley, stood an imposing five-story pure white marble building: Gringotts Wizarding Bank.

Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was unmistakably, a goblin. He stood about a head shorter than Harry, had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as Harry walked inside. Now he was facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._"

A pair of goblins bowed him through the silver doors and he was in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Harry walked up to the goblin at the counter and cleared his throat, "My name is Harry Potter and I would like to talk to someone about my finances."

~*oo*~

As it turned out he was unable to access his trust until his eleventh birthday, so Tom let him stay at the pub on credit for the intervening month, apparently being the saviour of the wizarding world had its perks. Finally, a week before his birthday, the Hogwarts letter arrived. The purple wax seal bore the Hogwarts coat of arms; the image of a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large stylized letter "H." The envelope itself was made of rather thick yellowish paper - parchment according to Mum - which was the precursor to modern paper. Turning the letter over Harry read the address and frowned slightly, sharing his displeasure with his parents. His new address was emblazoned across the front of the envelope in excruciatingly exact detail:

_Mr. H. Potter__  
__Room 11__  
__the Leakey Cauldron__  
__Charring Cross Road__  
__London_

His parents both know that Professor Minerva McGonagall personally addressed and signed every letter to new students, which amounted, at most, to about 30 students. Considering what his parents had told him about the night he was let on the doorstep of 4, Privet Drive, she would have paid special attention to Harry's letter. "Hard, but fair" was his father's almost grudgingly opinion of the Professor, and there was no doubt that she would not have missed the fact that the letter was addressed to the Leakey Cauldron, and they were also sure that she would have immediately told Dumbledore.

"They know where you are now," remarked his mother, "…I just know that man is going to try to interfere." Both Lily and James were more than a trifle upset that ten years had gone by without a single visit from the Headmaster. The rare visits to Mrs. Figg's over the years should have seen something done to correct the situation, but nothing had changed. Harry was as underfed, improperly clothed and mistreated worse than many a house elf! It seemed that no one had ever known about his having to sleep under the stairs, still, there were no professors to check in on him, no oddly dressed strangers in pointy hats ringing the bell, nor was there a sign of a certain tabby cat on the garden wall, James and Lily knew of course of Professor McGonagall's animagus form. For all intents and purposes: not a soul had cared one whit for the living arrangements of little Harry Potter.

~*oo*~

Harry lied back on his bed and focused his mind, sinking deeply into his meditation. Opening his inner eyes, he found himself standing outside his mental Godric's Hollow. The door opened and Lily rushed out and enveloped him in a loving hug. James was right behind her and wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulders, rubbing Lily's back with his free hand. Harry sighed in contented release and embraced his mother, glancing to his father with thanks in his eyes; James smiled and nodded, knowing that sometimes a child just needed to be held.

"Don't you worry about that Harry, we can handle Dumbledore and we won't let you go back to that house. We just have to be prepared for his manipulations." Lily said soothingly. Over the years the three of them had grown distinctly cold towards Dumbledore, annoyed at his manipulations and apparent disregard for Harry's health and welfare.

"Hell, with Dumbledore's connections and influence, he's probably the reason we haven't seen Moony or Padfoot in all this time, although I hope he used that influence to get _Peter Pettigrew_ the Dementor's Kiss." James said, spitting his former friend's name like a curse.

They had told Harry all about the Fidelius Charm, how they had chosen the Secret Keeper and then changed it at the last minute. Harry knew that the only person not involved in the casting of the charm was Sirius because he suggested using Pettigrew to throw Voldemort off their trail. Peter, as a matter of fact, had betrayed them and the rest, as they say, is history.

The three Potters retreated into the home they had created within their son's mind, partly to cheer each other up from the high of getting that all important piece of post and the immediate crash of anticipating Dumbledore's manipulations, but mostly to simply be together, in the only way they now could. The elder Potters regaled their son with more stories of their past and of the world they lived in and Harry's excitement grew at the thought of finally returning fully to the real world: His world. With the wonders of Diagon Alley having been perfectly described, the description of Hogwarts itself by his parents had him anxiously awaiting September First. The wonderful shops of the alley including the Goblin Wizarding Bank Gringotts, Ollivanders, and the Apothecary had been defined in crystal-clear detail and fondness. The school seemed to come alive as rooms such as the Great Hall, the Library, the Kitchens, and Gryffindor Tower were reminisced on lovingly. Eventually Harry fell asleep on the couch in the sitting room and James carried him up to 'his' room, the only room in the house that had changed from the original Godric's Hollow. There are some joys of parenting that the Potter's could have taken for granted … but they never had the opportunity to do so. Tonight it was James's turn, however limited it was, to tuck his son into bed.

~*oo*~

When Harry awoke on his bed in room eleven a week later, with Zuri coiled up on his chest, for a long moment he again wondered whether the highs and lows of that day were real. He turned his head, as he had for the past week, and grinned. Sure enough, the Hogwarts letter was still there, propped on his nightstand. Harry was on his feet and dressed in seconds. He had a great deal to accomplish; there was a vault to visit, a birthday to celebrate, and an innkeeper to reward with a hefty tip.

3


	4. 4 Heritage and Aquisitions

Chapter 4: Heritage and Acquisitions

_Summary: The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son._

_Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own (or live in, magic rocks) the 'Potterverse' … I do not._

**A/N: The layout of Diagon Alley is taken from the HP Lexicon; any stores that are not canon are placed in 'empty' buildings as shown on the map.**

The bank in the throes of business was a remarkable sight, with every Goblin teller seated engaged in some business transaction or another and every booth in use. Harry marveled. The Goblin he had addressed upon entering seemed incapable of not risking a glance up at Harry's forehead, just as he had a month ago when Harry had come the first time. With a sigh that only his parents, and possibly Zuri could hear, he pulled his fringe out of the way.

The Goblin didn't seem to react at all, at least not that Harry noticed, ringing a small silver bell. Moments later, an older Goblin ambled up to the counter and met Harry's gaze with his own coal black eyes, which once again swept across Harry's scar. Eyebrows raising just a fraction, "Right this way Mr. Potter," said the Goblin, leading them past the counter and through one of several hundred doors. Walking down a small corridor with four sets of matching gilded doors they entered the ones on the far left.

Though now mostly accounts, bankers and financial advisers, the Goblins Race had and would always be warriors first, and as warriors, should be on their guard. The doors swung inwards of their own accord and the Goblin gave a short, half bow to the wizard standing before him. "Greetings and welcome to the Bank of Gringotts, Mr. Potter," his eyes rose to meet Harry, "My name is Ragnok."

Following the prompting of his parents he bowed from the waist, slightly lower than Ragnok had and rose with his right hand crossed over his chest, fist clenched against the shoulder representing his holding a Goblin War Axe. "Greetings Ragnok, may your gold forever multiply," replied Harry, taking care to meet the gaze of the slightly astonished Goblin, "and may your enemies suffer horrible deaths upon your blade."

Ragnok broke in to a rather terrifying smile, this meeting, he realized, would be an interesting one. "Mr. Potter," he gestured towards the couch and coffee table instead of towards his desk and the somewhat uncomfortable chairs, "First may I say I am sorry that you couldn't be seen a month ago, goblin law would not allow you access to your trust fault until you reached school age. Now, your financial situation has been a bit of a conundrum amongst the goblins. The Potter family has long carried strong relations with other magical races, goblins included. As such the contents of the last Potter's will is known to us. We we're, there for, curious as to why the contents of the will and its instructions were not carried out at the time."

Harry nodded, hearing everything the goblin says being confirmed by his parents, "I know that I was never to go to my mother's sister. I also never received any, and I mean _any_, sort of communication from the wizarding world until my Hogwarts Letter. I would have at least expected letters from friends of my parents, well wishes, or even birthday cards."

With a wave of his clawed hand, a selection of pastries, cakes and other delicacies were brought to the coffee table, accompanied by a selection of beverages, both wizarding, goblin and much to Harry's surprise: Muggle. "I would suggest trying the Pumpkin Juice." It was Ragnok's way of buying time, to ponder the situation and the disturbing information that he had just learned, "Mr. Potter, it would appear that there has been a breakdown in communication, leading to the wishes of one of our most honored families not being carried out." Reaching his desk, the goblin pulled open a drawer and extracted a single, thick dossier to remove several pieces of parchment, "As to your finances, you will have access to your trust vault in a few days when you turn eleven. This vault is intended to pay for your schooling and day to day living expenses. When you come of age at seventeen, you will gain access to the Potter Family Vault, although you can examine the contents immediately." He scanned the file and grinned evilly, "Fortunately, your arrival a month ago was before we attempted to sent you the key to your vault, and I would assume your lack of post in the past would mean that you would never receive your key."

Harry frowned, "There are apparently many things about myself and my life that are not being carried out as per my parents wishes. How much do I have in each vault?"

Ragnok scanned the file again, "In your trust vault there is 300, 000 galleons or £1, 500, 000, this will refill to that amount at the end of each school year from the family vault until your schooling is completed; at which time the trust will merge with the family vault.

"Within the Potter Family Vault there is 100, 000, 000 galleons or £500, 000, 000. As well as antiquities, personal items salvaged from Godric's Hollow, including both your parent's wands, and family heirlooms. There is also a file of your holdings. Property deeds, share holdings, the Potter's will, and birth certificates for the three of you, and finally, the death certificates for your parents."

Harry nodded, having been told the approximate amount by his parents beforehand, he was able to keep his composure as his wealth was laid before him. "Do you have a copy of my parents will?" he took a cautious sip of the juice and found a rather pleasant mellow flavor with just a hint of sweetness to it, quite like drinking a pumpkin pie.

Ragnok nodded and pulled out a piece of parchment from within the file before him. He slid it across the desk to Harry and leaned back in his chair, observing the reactions flitting across Harry's face as he read, the frown growing deeper and deeper, until it was etching furrows in to the young man's features.

"According to this there were _four people_ in the magical world that I was to go to, my godfather first and foremost. Where is Sirius Black and why was I not placed with him, or my godmother Alice Longbottom? Why was I not placed with any of these other people: Remus Lupin, or Poppy Pomfrey?" Harry's eyes widened as he read the bottom of the document, "It specifically says I was NOT to go into my aunt's care _under ANY circumstances_. That if the above people were not available I was to be placed in a magical family approved of by the Goblins of Gringotts!"

Harry looked up and finally saw the disturbed look on Ragnok's face. Harry paled and James cursed within Harry's mind, "What is it, what happened to these people."

Ragnok shifted uneasily and cleared his throat, "Mr. Potter, what I have to tell you will be very difficult to hear, much less say, as all these families were close to the Goblin Nation. I ask you to hold your questions until I have finished." Taking a breath he continued, "Mr. Sirius Black was falsely arrested and sentenced without a trial for the betrayal of your parents, as well as the murder of thirteen muggles and one Mr. Peter Pettigrew; the true betrayer. We were told of the switch of secret keepers as a precautionary measure; he is currently in Azkaban and has been for the past ten years. Mrs. Alice Longbottom and her husband Mr. Frank Longbottom were tortured into insanity by Bellitrix Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange, and Bartiemus Crouch Jr. shortly after the death of your parents. They are in St. Mungo's permanent care ward. Mr. Remus Lupin was denied custody due to his lycanthropy and essentially disappeared. We believe that the loss of what he considers his 'pack', and the inability to care for his friends 'cub' drove him into such depression that he let the wolf take over. Madam Poppy Pomfrey works at Hogwarts as a healer, we have reason to believe she was either never told of her eligibility to raise you, or her memory was modified."

At the first mention of Sirius' fate, Harry had had to retreat into his mind to help control his father, who had started raging. The three of them then sat in silence as the fate of the remainder of their friends was revealed. When Ragnok finished, they were stunned for a moment before Harry jumped up and exited his mindscape. Coming back to himself, he addressed Ragnok. "This ... is a lot to take in. What happened to the Longbottom's son? Who denied Madam Pomfrey the knowledge of her eligibility? Why was Sirius not given a trial?"

Ragnok spread his hands, "I can only answer the first question accurately Mr. Potter. Mr. Neville Longbottom was taken in by his Grandmother, Mrs. Agusta Longbottom. He is doing well and will be joining you this year at Hogwarts. We speculate that the same person who left you at your Aunt and Uncle's was responsible for not informing Madame Pomfrey: Albus Dumbledore."

"Wait, my apologies for the interruption, but this will was witnessed by Albus Dumbledore," Harry said in shock, pointing out the relevant signature, "He knew all of this and still disregarded it?"

"It would seem that Mr. Dumbledore has ulterior motives when it came to your upbringing," He paused, a look of distaste spreading across his face, "in regards to the lack of a trial for Mr. Black, the Ministry will have everyone believe that the evidence against him was so incontrovertible that a trial was unnecessary. When, in reality, they were so euphoric at the downfall of Voldemort, that they couldn't be bothered to prove Mr. Black's guilt, using him as a scapegoat."

Harry sat, immersed in his thoughts and speculations with his parents, before nodding to Ragnok, "Thank you for the information, sir. These things will be taken care of. Now as to my holdings, I am aware that I have a house in Godric's Hollow but that there may be some damage to it, has anything been done to repair it?"

Ragnok looked through the file again, "Actually Mr. Potter, it was turned into a war memorial. Preserved as it was the night of your parents death as a reminder of the, 'Potter Sacrifice' they call it. You also have four other ancestral homes; one here in England close to Stonehenge, one in Scotland not far from Hogwarts, one in France outside of Versailles, and finally one in Italy near Venice. You are unable to visit these homes until you're of age, unfortunately."

Harry nodded again, expecting this, "Very well, I'd like to go to my vault, please. I'll visit my family vault at a later time, however. I have shopping to do for school, among other things."

Ragnok stood and nodded, waiving for Harry to follow him. They head out the corridor into the main hall, and across to another door that opened to reveal a track and mining cart. After clambering into the cart they sped off through a twisting maze of tunnels, coming to stop in front of a vault door. Ragnok took out a gilded key, unlocked the vault, and handed the key to Harry. He then pulled a leather money bag from his pocket, handing it to Harry as well and explained, "This bag is charmed with Goblin magic, linked directly to your vault, to be bottomless and weightless. The link will be activated after you have placed any amount of money from the vault in to the bag for the first time. It is a small token that I can extend to you on behalf of Gringotts for the problems that the bank has caused you."

Lily was quick to assess that what the Goblin's referred to as 'a small token,' was in fact a gift and a service that was extended to only the most valued of clients. James was quick to point out that having the Goblin's 'on his side,' could prove to be very useful in the future. Carefully, Harry accepted the bag from Ragnok, taking care to take it with both hands, giving the goblin a slight bow as he did so.

"Thank you," Harry said, "Apology accepted, and I hope that the relationship between Gringotts and the Potter Family will continue, and be a prosperous one for us both." The formality of the language nearly caused him to verbally stumble, but Ragnok either did not notice, or more likely chose to ignore it. Entering his vault he scooped a hand full each of Knuts, Sickles, and Galleons to ensure direct access to each through the vault, according to Ragnok. One wild cart ride, a handshake, and a good bye later, Harry Potter stood outside the great doors of the bank, squinting in to the sunlight, giving his eyes time to adjust as he pondered what the first stop on his upcoming shopping spree should be.

~*oo*~

The sun seemed to have retreated behind a cloud bank, but there was enough sun to call it a sunny-ish afternoon. Considering that he planned a shopping spree, the first stop should be the trunk shop squashed between Madam Malkin's and Gringotts so that he had a place to put everything. The sign swung back and forth in a slightly humid summer breeze and proclaimed the name of the store well enough:

_Swiftwing Storage: Magical Trunks, Bottomless Bags, Everlight Packs and Expandable Rooms_

Harry's face bore a massive grin as he swept through the door, to be confronted by stacks of trunks and shelves crammed full of bags and packs. At the far end was a glass display case that also served as the front counter. An odd little man stood up and surveyed Harry and seems to dismiss him as being able to afford nothing more than the most basic of basic trunks, "Welcome to Swiftwing Storage, I am the owner and proprietor, Mr. Swiftwing. How may I help you, young sir?" He asked coming around the counter.

"I am interested in getting a trunk for all my things, not just my school stuff. My relations are not keen on magic and, should I be forc-er required to stay with them next summer, I would like my belongings secure while in their house." Harry said looking at the stacks of trunks beside him.

"Well, we have multi-compartmental trunks that can store as much as a small house. However," his eyes once again rove over Harry's unkempt appearance, "They are rather pricey."

Harry glanced down at himself, a sheepish grin on his face, "Yes, well ... this is what my relatives gave me to wear; you can understand my reluctance to allow them access to any of _my_ belongings. As for money," He opened his new vault bag and withdrew a sizable hand full of galleons, "It's no object."

The shop owners' eyes widened with delighted greed, "Certainly sir." He says, leading Harry to the back of the store where a row of sleek black trunks stood, almost as if each was atop its own pedestal, looking down with superiority over the lesser, stacked models, "These trunks have anywhere from three to seven individual compartments. Each compartment starts as a standard two square meter room."

Mr. Swiftwing actually patted the closest trunk affectionately, "For trunks with more than four rooms there is the option of travel between compartments. The rooms can be set up, for an additional fee, to be a basic flat; with kitchen, sitting room, one or more bedrooms, one or more bathrooms, library, and/or study; or any combination thereof. They are however, unfurnished."

"Each also comes standard with owner recognition charms, anti-theft, shrinking and enlarging, and the 'Domestic Care' charms package to protect from water, fire, dirt and routine bumps and scratches. There is also an immovable charm to prevent it from being handled when occupied. Also, should you want to, there is an addable feature that will allow you to 'key in' a friend or, ahem, relative; simply place your hand on the centre of the trunks lid and state their first and last names. Also, one would find that magic performed within the trunk can't be tracked. So, what tickles your fancy?"

Harry thought for a moment, digesting all the possibilities. "Go all out, Harry." James declared encouragingly, "Not only do you deserve it, but you need it with the possibility of returning to the Dursleys, not to mention how much you're planning to get."

Harry looked to the store owner, "Mr. Swiftwing, I am about to make your day."

Harry ended up with a seven compartment 'flat' trunk containing a kitchen, a bedroom with a walk-in closet, a bathroom, a sitting room, a library, and a study. The seventh room was left empty as the future habitat for Zuri to hibernate and live in during the colder months of the year. Now outfitted with a trunk, he also purchased and everlight pack for his school books and a bottomless bag for his more personal belongings. The bag and pack came with the same security features as on the trunk as well, minus the immoveable charm. Harry even debated on getting an expandable room for Privet Drive, but as his mother rightly pointed out, the Dursleys would not take kindly to him altering their house, and he could always stay in the trunk.

By the time Harry was done, he'd not only made Mr. Swiftwing's day, but probably his week, month and year. Trunks were a lucrative market, but the usual customer would only buy the standard one compartment trunk, giving him a decent income, but making money tight when it came to the pricey tuition of the magical boarding school. This one customer's purchases alone would ensure that he could put his youngest of five children through Hogwarts.

Moving on to Madam Malkin's, Harry realized that he was about to "make the day" for virtually every merchant, shop owner, and stall proprietor in Diagon Alley as he was shopping for not just school, but personal necessity and desire. Madam Malkin was just finishing with a young dark skinned boy who looks to be the same age as Harry, and waived him to the next platform to stand upon and be measured. After the other boy left, Madam Malkin turned to Harry with a tape measure in hand,

"Just the Hogwarts robes then, Dear?" She asked.

"Actually Madam," Harry said, grinning, "I need an entire wardrobe, everything from trousers to dress robes."

Harry's grin became Cheshire-like as Madam Malkin's eyes widened and the tape measure dropped from her hand. After a brief moment she blinked and came back to herself. Scooping up her measurer, she set it to map out every line of Harry's body, and rushed down her shop aisles; pulling robes, trousers, and shirts off the racks. After several hours of trying different styles, fits, and colours, Harry slid the last of his new clothing into his bottomless bag, he had changed into a pair of black slacks, black belt, and a cream short-sleeved shirt, but had not put on new socks yet, as he still has his old trainers on. All told, he ended up with ten pairs of trousers, five in khaki and five in black; twenty-one short-sleeved button-down shirts and twenty-one long-sleeved button-down shirts in black, white, cream, red, green, blue, and deep golden yellow (three of each colour and sleeve length, after ten years of wearing faded tents as clothing Harry was ready for some colour); five sets of basic black school robes; and seven sets of dress robes in the same colours as his shirts. He also got a good supply of socks, pants, and undershirts in black and white, as well as six belts; three in brown and three in black, and advice to go to the shoe shop on the other side of Gringotts.

Harry smiled when he caught sight of the sign for the shoe shop; _Elves and Shoemaker Footwear Emporium_, someone must have read their muggle fables. Entering the shop, Harry was greeted by a diminutive creature; a house elf, according to his father.

"Welcome to the Elves and Shoemaker Footwear Emporium. I am Hoopy, how may we be serving you today?"

Noting his father's comment of 'Well spoken for an elf', Harry crouched down to be at eye level, "I need some trainers and a good pair of boots. What can you offer?"

Hoopy smiled and showed Harry a wall of trainers, "We have many different kinds of trainers in both the magical and muggle styles. Our magical trainers have an auto-tie feature as well as charms to keep them clean, repel dirt and water, and will resize themselves should your feet grow more." He paused and gestured to a display of scaled boots. "Our boots come in a variety of dragon hides, ranging from Common Welsh Green to Hungarian Horntail. They don't have the repelling charms the trainers do owing to the dragon hides natural immunity to dirt and water. They will resize and auto-tie, however. Also, seeing as most dragons have rather lurid scales, all dragon hide boots come with a colour change feature. This allows you to change the shade to the colour of your choice, the most popular being black."

Harry grinned, "Well that sounds perfect. I'll take two pairs of magical trainers and a pair of Hungarian Horntail boots."

Hoopy beamed at him and rushed off to collect the footwear. After paying for the items and replacing his outsized trainers for one of his new pairs and a new pair of black socks, Harry headed next door to Magical Menagerie feeling well dressed for the first time in his life. He dumped his old trainers into his trunk with his old clothing, planning to chuck them in the nearest dumpster as soon as he was back in muggle London.

Stepping inside the pet shop Harry's senses were assaulted by the sounds and smells of hundreds of different animals. Noting that the shop was mostly empty, save for a woman and her daughter looking at crup food, Harry walked up to the shop keep, who's nameplate reads 'Ms. Aimes', and murmured, "I have a familiar with me that is a bit on the unusual side. She tends to frighten some people," Harry glanced at the mother and daughter significantly, "It would be helpful if we could speak about her needs and care with a bit more privacy."

Ms. Aimes raised an eyebrow and nodded. Moving over to the small family, she helped them with their selection and purchase quickly and efficiently, then turned the sign on the door to close. Turning back to Harry she motioned him to a pair of stools at the front counter. Sitting down Harry extended his arm to the countertop and watched the woman carefully as Zuri slid out of his sleeve, down his arm, and coiled onto the counter. Both Ms. Aimes' eyebrows rose at this but she made no motion of aversion or disgust, a good sign.

"Ms. Aimes, I need all the equipment necessary to create a suitable habitat for her in a two square metre room, as well as a colony of breeding mice for her to eat. I will tell you now that I am willing to spend a great deal of money on this, however I am also a Parselmouth," Ms. Aimes' eyes, which had been studying Zuri with admiration, snap back to Harry so fast they are almost audible. Harry lifted his own eyebrow at this, "There is nothing Dark about speaking to reptiles, just because Voldemort," Harry paused at the expected wince, "Yes, I speak his name. Just because he and Slytherin spoke to snakes does not mean it is automatically evil. If anyone paid attention to wizarding history they would know and remember that Merlin could speak Parseltongue as well. If this is still disagreeable to you I can take my business elsewhere."

After a pause Ms. Aimes nodded and finally spoke, "I agree with you, sir. As a collector and seller of exotic animals I find that there are a lot of unwarranted prejudices against certain creatures. I actually rather wish I could speak the language myself. It would certainly make dealing with the magical snakes I get from time to time easier." She stood and adopted a more businesslike air, "Now, you'll need quite a bit of equipment to create a habitat that big, where is this room?"

"It's in my trunk." Harry replied, pulling it out of his bag and opening the last compartment.

Ms. Aimes whistled and looked down into the trunk, "You weren't kidding about spending a lot of money, were you?"

"I plan on having her for a long time, her home should reflect that." Harry said, not wanting to get into the whole 'Dursley issue' with this woman.

After a few hours of carting nearly half the reptile section of the shop down into Harry's trunk and setting it up to Zuri's specifications, complete with a burrow for the colony of ten mice(five breeding pairs), Harry thanked Ms. Aimes and headed to his next destination, Eeylops Owl Emporium. After a brief search through the feathered collection Harry found an absolutely gorgeous Snowy Owl that seemed to call to him. After purchasing the beautiful creature and her supplies, Harry moved on.

Wanting to leave his wand till last, even though it was clear at the other end of the alley from the Leakey Cauldron, Harry went next to Flourish and Blotts, the wizarding bookstore. In addition to his schoolbooks Harry bought extra books on each of his subject as well as several books each on Occlumency, Leglemency, wizarding politics, magical animals, Animagus Transformation, Warding, spell crafting, and various other subjects that were taught in later years like divination, arithmancy, and ancient runes. All told, Harry bought about eighty books and had the shop keeper drooling.

Stopping in the stationary store next door for ink, quills, and parchment; where he went a bit crazy on some colour changing ink, self-rolling parchment, and dicta-quills, Harry also found a fountain pen and bookmark set that had four unique pens and four metal bookmarks, each one was stylized after each of the four Hogwarts Houses they were very fancy, quite expensive, and strictly decorative, but Harry liked them so he splurged a bit. Harry next headed to the Apothecary, it was a fascinating shop crammed with all sorts of interesting things. There were barrels of slimy stuff lined up on the floor and jars of all sorts of powders, herbs, and the like along the walls. Bundles of feathers, fangs, and claws hung from the ceiling. The whole place smelled very bad, a mixture of bad eggs and rotten cabbage. Harry was quick to purchase a good amount of pretty much everything in the shop before getting a full set of each type of the cauldrons at the shop he first saw when he entered the alley. At the supply shop he got a set each of the brass and silver scales and though he did buy a beautiful brass telescope in a handsome leather case, he also bought the most expensive item on his trip to the Alley, a perfect moving model of the galaxy in a large glass ball with a golden stand. This, he thought, would look wonderful sitting in his study or living room. He finally made his way to the wand shop at the end of the Alley.

"_Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C."_

The gold letters over the doorway of the narrow shop were faded and peeling and the window display showed a single wand resting a top a faded purple cushion. Opening the door, Harry felt more than a bit apprehensive, despite his parent's reassurances. A bell tinkled, and echoed. It was a tiny place and yet somehow, the store had the feel of library to it, a strict one where instead of books, were wands, thousands of narrow boxes piled up neatly, the tallest stack stopping just before they would touch the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped creating a loud crunching noise and he got up quickly off the spindly chair he had sat on.

An old man was standing before him, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop. "Hello," said Harry awkwardly.

"Ah yes," he said, "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work." Harry could feel his mothers shock at this pronouncement and took that to mean Mr. Ollivanders' comment was accurate.

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy. "Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand, eleven inches, pliable, a little more power, and excellent for transfiguration." James mumbled a surprised acquiescence at this, "Well, I say your father favored it — it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course." Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes. "And that's where…"

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger. "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches, yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands…well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do…"

He shook his head and then, to Harry's relief, turned away. "Well, now — Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"I'm right-handed," said Harry.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own as the wand maker flit around the shelves, taking down boxes. "That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one, Beechwood and dragon heartstring, nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and, feeling rather foolish – much to his parents' amusement - waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather, seven inches, quite whippy. Try —"

Harry tried — but he hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no — here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, and try it out."

Harry tried, and tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"You're a tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere — I wonder, now — yes, why not — unusual combination — holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the wand. He felt sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. His parents' voices cheered in his head.

Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well…how curious…how very curious…"

He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious… curious…"

"Sorry," said Harry, "but _what's _curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter; every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather — just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother — why, its brother gave you that scar."

Harry swallowed and his parents muttered softly.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches, yew. It is curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember…I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter…After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great."

**A/N:** **I know this chapter is a lot longer than my previous ones and deals primarily with the obligatory shopping spree, sorry if you're not a fan of those scenes, I am and it's my fic. I also know that the Ollivanders scene was taken directly from the book with the Hagrid bits removed and parent insights added; this was done on purpose as I saw no reason for Ollivander to not act the same as canon. If you don't like it or anything else in this chapter tell me why or don't read it, comments such as "this sucks" will just get laughed at. As always comments that you like my fic, or suggestions on how to make it better, are **_**greatly**_** appreciated.**

13


	5. 5 Within the Cauldron

Chapter 5: Within the Cauldron

_Summary: The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son._

_Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own (or live in, magic rocks) the 'Potterverse' … I do not._

Harry stopped off at the Leaky Cauldron to have lunch before heading into Muggle London, mulling over the rather bizarre, and almost one sided conversation with Ollivander and the entire experience of shopping for a wand.

Zuri may have all she would ever need, but Harry still had an apartment of his own to furnish. Hailing a taxicab from Downtown Muggle London, he made his way to Harrods. Though the famous department store was seven stories and four and a half acres, Harry took his time. He wandered through the third floor of the store, looking about in awe at everything on display from solid wood bed frames, dining sets, and wardrobes, to plush seating. The salesman let him wander around for almost fifteen minutes before wandering over himself. Almost immediately, Harry felt that same something that had drawn him in to the store in the first place. An odd tingling that seems to trickle and trail across his skin, and his parents were quick to confirm what he suspected: Magic. And it was coming from the salesman himself. Harry smiled brightly as this would make it a lot easier to get his purchases in to the trunk.

"I need to purchase enough furniture to fill a flat; including bedroom, living room, dining room, office, and kitchen sets." Harry said, shaking the man's hand and leaning in close, "I trust your service to be _magical_."

The salesman suddenly matched Harry's smile with a grin of his own and nodded, "Of course, sir. Magical or Muggle, we at Harrods cater to all needs and lifestyles! Allow me to show you our lovely mahogany bedroom set to start with, unless of course you are searching for a particular style?"

Harry broke into a full grin as he was lead through a selection of fancy four poster beds, his parents reminiscing fondly in his head of the similar beds in Hogwarts. He finally settled on a lovely rosewood four poster (he found the mahogany too dark) with ivy carvings running throughout the wood, complete with taupe sheets and pillow cases, a crimson comforter, and indigo hangings that rather remind him of the British flag. Finishing off the bedroom with a matching rosewood wardrobe and dresser, a pair of bedside tables, some wrought-iron table and floor lamps and an area rug that matched the bedding; he moved on to deck out his living room.

Matching overstuffed black suede leather couches, a rosewood coffee table and end tables, a few wall-mounted book/video/music shelves, more wrought-iron floor lamps, and a large television and rosewood entertainment centre, that the salesman assured him would function without a hitch around magic, filled his living room, and he made a mental note to go to a movie/music store later. Next, his study was furnished with two standing rosewood bookshelves on either side of a matching desk that he stocked with the parchment, ink, and quills he had purchased at Flourish and Blotts.

His Library was filled with the rosewood standing bookshelves with a small alcove to the side equipped with an overstuffed armchair, matching the furniture in the living room, and a rosewood side table with a wrought-iron table lamp. All the extra books purchased in Diagon Alley would be placed on the shelves in the library. He also purchased a fairly large amount of muggle books encompassing fiction and non-fiction.

The bathroom was equipped with a black whirlpool tub, walk-in shower, toilet, and sink. Harry purchased crème towels monogrammed with a stylized 'P' and matching bath mats. He also got every toiletry he would ever need including a deluxe shaving kit for later in life.

For the dining room he chose, again, a round rosewood table with four chairs, and a wrought-iron chandelier that the salesman helped him mount above the table. The table and chairs also had ivy carved into them, reminiscent of his bedroom set. He also went through Harrods 'Home Decoration' section on the second floor, getting a few homey touches for the trunk.

In the kitchen Harry went all out, purchasing rosewood cupboards with black marble countertops, and top of the line appliances; from a double door refrigerator that he could stand in comfortably, to a stainless steel stove/oven combination. Rather like a bull in a china shop, Harry went crazy on chinaware, cutlery, tools, and utensils to make even top chefs go green with envy. The salesman even helped Harry move everything in to the trunk, although leaving the actual positioning and final placement at Harry's discretion; something that was going to take a while, he realized.

The sun was just beginning to retreat behind the clouds and set in the Western sky. He made a last stop at Sainsbury's Local down the road, to stock up on all the food he had always wanted before and could never have as well as an eclectic array of movies and cd's. It would have been tricky without his trunk to manage the quantity he had. As it was, he took the risk of popping it out to drop his purchases inside before shrinking it back in to his pocket, his room in the Leaky Cauldron had a lot of furniture organizing awaiting him.

Three hours later Harry placed the last of his school books on the new shelves in his study. After freshening up, changing his clothing to khaki slacks and a black shirt, and returning to his study, he took down 'The Boy-Who-Lived and His Defeat of the Dark Lord' and began to read, learning of how the wizarding world viewed him, while Zuri headed into her room to relax and hunt for her dinner. Harry had bored a hole through the doors of each room about three feet up (couldn't have her mice escaping) so that Zuri could move from room to room without having to wait for Harry to open the doors. Harry had only been reading for about ten minutes before a chime was heard throughout the flat, announcing that someone was trying to get his attention outside the trunk. Having sent his new post owl, Hedwig, off with his reply to Hogwarts as soon as he had returned to his room, he had delayed posting his reply until his birthday, he and his parents had a good feeling who was attempting to get in touch with him.

As he exited the trunk there was another knock on the door and Tom could be heard on the other side, "Sir, you have a visitor. A representative from Hogwarts wishes to speak with you. He is downstairs in the pub."

Harry groaned and shrunk his trunk, dropped it in to his pocket, and took a deep breath; they had come. With a gentle, almost easy going smile, he opened the door and was greeted to the sight of a smiling Tom, "Thank you. Do you know who it is? I would rather go down there at least a little prepared. I have a feeling they will not agree with my staying here until term starts."

Tom frowned at this implied slur on his establishment, "You are perfectly safe here, young sir. Professor Dumbledore should know that with all the times he's stayed here in the past."

Harry nodded, "I have no doubts that I am in no danger while here, Tom. I am quite pleased with the services at the Leaky Cauldron and fully intend on remaining here until the first of September."

Tom smiled and led him down to the private room that Dumbledore had asked for. His parents' voices bolstering his courage, feeding him information about the few failings they had witnessed during their time in Hogwarts and out of it, removing the all-knowing mystique that the headmaster liked to surround himself with. Harry stepped into the room and immediately realized why he needed to see the Headmaster in a human light, there was a strong aura of magic radiating off the man in such concentration that it was almost a palpable wave. Dumbledore rose to his feet with a congenial smile, "Harry, my boy…." He began, and that was as far as he got.

Harry had already raised a hand, and followed his mother's lead on how to address the headmaster he was already beginning to ever so slightly dislike, "If you please, Headmaster: 'Boy' is a nickname turned in to a derogatory slur by my abusive blood relations. I prefer not to be referred to by it. Also, as my Headmaster, it is rather inappropriate for you to refer to me by my given name. Therefore, if you please, it is Mr. Potter, sir." Harry said stoically as he took a seat without it being offered, James laughing loudly in his head, and Harry had to fight to keep a grin off his face.

It happened in less than a second, if his father had not tipped him off and if Harry had not been looking for it, he would have missed the slight downward twitch at the corner of Albus Dumbledore's mouth and an ever so brief darkening of his eyes before all was as it was. It was clear already that Dumbledore did not like his forthright and independent demeanor. "Of course, Mr. Potter, may I offer you a sherbert lemon?"

Within the confines of the only private room that the Leaky Cauldron had, Harry was quick to note that while it did not have any windows, or a proper door, there was a magical something in the doorway itself. No doubt something that ensured privacy and prevented eavesdroppers. Harry found himself wishing he could cast the spell to do that. Taking a breath, he met the gaze of his future headmaster, "Headmaster, I value my time now that it is mine to spend on my own terms. Without having my days solely devoted to excessive chores, I am able to do as I please. In preparation for entering this new society, I have decided to study the culture and history of the wizarding world; I also have many interesting new school books to read. I am afraid I must insist that we keep this meeting short and to the point, so I may return to my studies as quickly as possible."

Another ghost of disappointment flitted across the old man's face before disappearing and then Harry felt it, the subtle brush of Legillimency on his shields. He was able to prevent any outward sign that he'd noticed this gross violation of his privacy, though it was difficulty with James and Lily cursing the intrusion in his mindscape. Harry held his reaction, knowing that the venerated Headmaster would see nothing but the confusing swirl of colours that was the Potters combined Occlumency barriers. Finally the Headmaster spoke again, "Very well Mr. Potter, I do not believe it is safe for you to remain here and request that you return to the security of your Aunts' house."

Harry couldn't help it; though he hardly wanted to, his laugh barked out: fast, loud, and dark. "Forgive me, Headmaster, but the idea that my relations house could be considered safe is, at best, morbid humor. Those people did everything short of beat me to keep me 'normal'," Harry actually paused to phrase the word normal with air quotes, "or at least their version of it. I feel I am perfectly safe here and," Harry had the slyest of smiles on his face as a something clicked in his mind, "honestly, Headmaster, what would I have to fear, to need to seek safe lodgings of any kind?"

Dumbledore shook his head, all traces of a smile now gone, "I am afraid I can't tell you that Har- Mr. Potter. There are things you are too young yet to know. However, I must insist you return to your aunt's house."

Shaking his head in return, Harry frowned, "I am sorry, sir, but you have no control over where I go or what I do outside of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Even as Supreme Mugwump there is nothing you can do unless I break a law, which I haven't done. Seeing as there is apparently no reason for me to live in a 'safer'," Harry again made air quotes, "location until school starts, I will remain here."

Dumbledore frowned as well, "There is reason Mr. Potter, just because I chose not to divulge it to you, does not remove the reason."

Harry stood, "Well then, I thank you for your concern and advice. However, based on the information at hand I have decided to stay here at the Leaky Cauldron until the first of September. Now, as I said before, sir, I have a mountain of studying awaiting me. Good evening, sir." He swept out of the room in a manner that reminded Albus Dumbledore of Severus Snape. The only thing missing from Harry's determined and slightly more dramatic exit was the billowing of a cape or robes that normally accompanied the Hogwarts Potions Master.

Dumbledore did not bother trying to call the bo - Har - Mr. Potter back… he was probably more than halfway up the stairs. In fact, by the time he had stepped from the room, Harry was back in his trunk, a can of soda balanced precariously on one knee as his parents laughter echoed through his mind. Even though he was trying to study, he couldn't help but share a smile with them, "Can you two keep it down in there? I'm trying to learn out here!"

Their laughter continued, "You should try relaxing and coming in here instead!" retorted his father. To Harry's chagrin, even his mother seemed to agree with the sentiment.

3


	6. 6 Trains and Tricksters

Harry Potter and the Spirits Within

Chapter 6: Trains and Tricksters

_Summary: The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son._

_Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own (or live in, magic rocks) the 'Potterverse' … I do not._

**_A/N: As a bonus and because the last chapter is rather short, I give you ... Two Chapters At Once! (you're welcome)_**

After his near spectacular failure to persuade Harry to return to No. 4 Privet Drive, Headmaster Albus Percivel Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Grand Sorcerer, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot _and_ Bearer of the Order of Merlin – First Class, made a further three attempts to meet with Harry, and change the boy's mind about staying at the Leaky Cauldron. These follow up attempts were neither failures nor successes, as Harry had said all he was going to say on the subject and point blank refused to attend the meetings.

The Headmaster was forced to admit – just to himself - that Harry's unexpected forthrightness had put him on the back foot and wrested the initiative away from him. In an attempt to regain that initiative, the headmaster unleashed his attack dogs, one after the other. Minerva McGonagall was first. As Transfiguration Professor and head of Gryffindor house, she attempted to regale the boy with tales of his parent's exploits. What she didn't know was that Harry had heard every story she told from those who knew them best. His refusal was polite and semi-formal to the Scottish Professor, and she left with a certain amount of admiration for the young child that had refused her so politely, yet firmly at the same time.

Lily had excelled at many subjects during his years at Hogwarts, as had James, but she stood out foremost in the mind of Professor Filius Flitwick, Charms Professor and head of Ravenclaw House. As his mother's favourite teacher, and as professor of her favourite subject, he – unfortunately for Dumbledore – was met with the same firm but polite refusal, mainly due to the fact that Harry was worried he might slip up in front of the diminutive professor and mention something he shouldn't know.

It was with a measure of shock and irritation when Severus Snape, former school mate of both his parents, as well as, arguably, his father's arch nemesis while at school, arrived. The internationally renowned potions master and head of Slytherin House had no problem making his disdain for Harry very clear and was swiftly and brusquely directed out the door.

The last – and what Harry and his parents thought – desperate attempt to get him to return to Privet Drive came from the Herbology Professor and head of Hufflepuff house. In her capacity as an unbiased representative, with no ties to his parents, she was the closest to success, but ultimately saw her efforts end in miserable failure as well.

While the professors were loyal to the headmaster for a variety of their own, personal reasons; the three unbiased professors came to roughly the same conclusion in their debriefing with the venerable head of Hogwarts. They shared many of Harry's insidious comments regarding the fallibility of all men, and the near hilarious nature of their task in trying to exert the Headmaster's control over an eleven year old boy. It left them however with serious food for thought over whether their loyalty – while a good thing – need be so blind. They also found themselves impressed, much to Snape's horror in agreeing with the assessment of his fellow heads of house: For a just turned eleven year old boy, Harry Potter was incredibly mature, level headed and even tempered. It was possible, Flitwick conceded, that given who his parents where and the events surrounding that fateful night, Harry Potter could well be a wizard to watch out for.

Between the almost clockwork like houndings from the Hogwarts staff, Harry spent his time out in Diagon Alley, befriending shop owners and picking up gossips on everything going on in the magical world, ranging from the mundane (if exciting and ever changing) love lives of Quidditch superstars to the under-the-table, backhanded, smoke-and-mirror dealings of the current Minister of Magic; Cornelius Fudge.

Within his trunk, the library continued to grow with both new titles and several more ancient and valuable tomes from Flourish and Blotts. Harry also added the large variety of different ingredients he purchased from the apothecary, and ate his way through every flavour of Florean Fortescue's ice cream. The Magical Menagerie owner, Ms. Aimes fast became a friend, with her indulgent guidance, educating him in magical creatures and a multitude of magical snakes, including the rare and ever sought after runespoor, a rather remarkable snake with three heads that made conversation not only extremely unusual but also somewhat confusing.

~*oo*~

When Harry awoke on the first of September, he was excited to be finally going to a place where he could learn to use the magic he had been reading about, and the wand motions he'd been practicing with his quill. He placed Zuri into her room within the trunk, where she immediately set about trying to reduce the mouse population and let his snowy owl fly from the window, sending her ahead of him to the castle. Shrinking his trunk, he slipped it in to his pocket and made his way to King Cross Station.

Platform's nine and ten at the station were actually in a separate building from the main station and two intervening rail tracks. He was just about to approach the barrier when a snippet of loud, almost shrill conversation reached him, "…packed with Muggles, of course..." Looking ahead, Harry spied a plump redhead surrounded by five equally redheaded children: Four boys and a young girl, two of the boys appeared to be identical twins, "Now, what's the platform number?" asked the woman.

"Nine and three quarters, mum can't I go...?" Her daughter exclaimed in a piercing voice, oddly loud for standing only two feet from her mother.

He paused, leaning against a wall out of the way, and turning his attention inward, "Who are they? Don't they know about the Statute of Secrecy? It's obvious they know where the platform is, her three oldest children are at least old enough to be in their fourth and second years. Why on earth is she yelling about it in the middle of the station?"

James had a dark look on his face as he replied, "They're Weasleys, a pure blood family, and very much on the 'light side', blindingly so. She is Molly Weasley, her husband, Arthur Weasley, works in the Ministry; at least he did ten years ago, so they definitely know not to go shouting about it in a train station."

Lily nodded, "I think she was put up to it to get you to ask about the platform, notice none of the professors told you how to get to it. If you didn't know and you heard someone yelling about muggles would you have talked to them?"

Harry nodded as well, "I certainly would, and I would have been lost without you, both of you. I would have also been worried about missing the train and would be supremely grateful to whoever helped me."

James nodded in turn, "So it seems Dumbledore is trying to get you connected with a light family. Her youngest son is starting school this year as well, he will most likely attempt to befriend you."

Harry frowned, "If he's only going to try to be my friend because Dumbledore told him to he can keep his friendship, I don't want to confide in someone who's just going to betray my trust." With the Potter family, trust was more than a lofty ideal, on par with loyalty, honour and courage. Trust, or more specifically a lack thereof, was what had gifted Harry Potter the life he had. In the few moments that the internal discussion had taken place, all of the Weasley children had passed through the barrier, leaving the Matriarch of the clan looking around the platform one final time before passing through herself. That settled it: She had been waiting for someone.

He walked through the barrier, confident in the fact that his parents wouldn't steer him in to a solid brick wall, and emerged to get his first look at the scarlet steam engine that is the Hogwarts Express. His parents had deliberately kept their memories of their train rides from him to avoid spoiling what would be one of the most magical moments of his young life. They had done the same for their memories of Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, and Hogsmead as well. Harry was glad that his trunk actually fit in his pocket as, with the slightest hint of a smirk, he watched the students struggle. They were in a one sided fight trying to get their trunks first on to the train, and then, onto the luggage racks. And that was not counting the plethora of caged owls, cats and other pets, often balanced precariously atop the trunks.

While some of the students were helping each other with their luggage, all of the help was confined to their fellow housemates. There was, Harry quickly realized, absolutely no inter house cooperation and it extended into the clusters of gathered students: Everywhere he looked, students stuck to their houses, with all of the as yet unsorted first years left helpless on their own. He shared his parents' amazement that the school would promote such divisiveness at such a young age.

As Harry made his way to the train he passed a round faced boy in the midst of telling the severe looking woman accompanying him that he had just lost his toad, "Oh, Neville," the old woman sighed, and Harry was stopped short by his parents exclamations.

"That's the Longbottom boy!" James shouted.

"It's Alice's son!" Lily cried at the same time.

He winced at the sudden burst of noise, and his parents cheekily whispered apologies he could barely hear. He'd deal with them later … a practical joke when he dropped in to his mindscape for a visit perhaps. Advancing to the pair, Harry held out his hand to the elderly woman, "Mrs. Longbottom I presume, my name is Harry Potter. I had been hoping to meet you and your grandson. From what I learned at Gringotts he and I should have grown up together. Certain events occurred to prevent that unfortunately. They also informed me of the current condition of his parents. My deepest condolences to you both, while I know almost exactly how you may feel, I believe you may have it worse."

Neville blinked in surprise and nodded, "I didn't think anyone would ever see it that way, everyone always says that I've got it better because they're 'still here'. They don't understand… what it's like… seeing them that way," the boy hesitated, "knowing that they'll never get better, never recognize me or anything…"

Harry gave the boy a supportive smile, "I was able to make peace with what happened to my parents and move on, but you got stuck in a kind of limbo. They may never heal and it will be many years before they die, it seems as though you're trapped in a waiting game, wait for them to either fade and die or heal and live. That is much worse than simply losing them, in my opinion." Harry didn't tell Neville that the main reason he was so accepting of his parents' death was that, to him, they'd never died. He didn't know if he'd ever tell anyone, it just seemed too personal. Though, if he did ever decide to 'come out' Neville would be the one he spoke to first. In truth, their parental situations had become the exact opposite of each other. Neville had his parents' bodies without their minds, while Harry had his parents' minds without their bodies. Yet they also had their similarities; neither boy could ever adequately introduce his friends to their parents, they could never receive an honestly physical loving hug, nor, unless the Longbottoms' condition changed, truly attend any of the important events in either boys' life; graduation, marriage, children.

Mrs. Longbottom smiled at Harry and shook his offered hand, "If only you had been able to come to us, how much better both your upbringings might have been."

Harry quirked an eyebrow, it seemed Mrs. Longbottom knew a bit about his muggle relations, "Indeed, I would have rather enjoyed growing up with someone I could relate to."

At her slight nod his suspicions were confirmed, "I would greatly appreciate a contact within the magical world; will you allow me to correspond with you? I'm sure it will be beneficial to us both."

At her nod Harry turned to Neville, "Come on. We'd best get on board before the train leaves us behind." He picked up one end of Neville's trunk, his still secure in his pocket, and helped him lug it to an empty compartment. Halfway there he spotted a small green toad hopping along the platform and scooped it up mid-jump. He showed it to Neville before sticking it in his pocket and Neville smiled and nodded his thanks. After securing their compartment Harry pulled the toad back out and handed it to Neville, who immediately placed it on his right shoulder.

"Thanks for finding him, some stupid owl had a go at him and he scarpered, shot off my shoulder like he was attached to a rocket."

Harry frowned, "that's rather rude, people should be more careful with their pets, I sent my owl on ahead so she wouldn't have to deal with the train and crowds, and my other pet is in my trunk. Do you know whose owl it was?"

Neville nodded, "It was one of the red head boys, the oldest one. I actually watched him let it out, before it attacked Trevor." He did a double take, "Where is your trunk?"

Harry smiled and pulled out his miniaturized trunk. Neville let out a low whistle of approval, "That is quite a departure from the norm. How many compartments did you get?"

"There are seven; or the basic flat with a spare room for my lovely familiar, whom I rescued from London Zoo." Harry expanded his trunk and opened Zuri's room, "Neville, I'd like to introduce you to Zuri, my Black Mamba. _Zuri this is Neville, my new friend._"

Neville had been cautiously admiring Zuri until Harry spoke to her; his reaction was almost identical to Ms. Aimes, "You're a Parselmouth?" He whispered, but there was no fear in his voice, only awe.

Harry nodded, "I wanted to get it out in the open so if it bothers you we can go our separate ways sooner rather than later. It's not a dark ability; it was just associated with some dark people recently. Merlin was one, too."

Neville nodded in agreement, "I remember reading about that in one of the books in my family's library. I thought it was odd that one of our most revered ancestors had this supposedly dark ability. When I looked further into it I found that speaking Parseltongue is a celebrated ability in places like Australia, Africa, and China, where poisonous snakes are prevalent."

Harry smiled and extended his arm out to Neville slightly, offering to let him hold Zuri. Neville accepted her without hesitation and held her up to his face, looking into her eyes. Zuri cocked her head to the side and stared intently at Neville for a moment, her tongue flicking out a few times, before turning to Harry and hissing at him. Harry laughed in response.

Neville raised a brow, "What did she say?" he asked.

Still chuckling, Harry replied, "She said she likes you - even if you do smell of toad."

~*oo*~

The boys settled comfortably in to their compartment, lounging across seats and space normally reserved for at least six people. Zuri had found a comfortable perch, coiled around Neville's waist and along his arm. Trevor had settled in on Harry's outstretched leg and with Neville's trunk on the floor between them, they had an impromptu card table. Harry had brought a muggle deck of cards with him; something Neville thought was brilliant as he hated playing with exploding snap decks. Harry taught him simple card games such as Black Jack, Five card draw, and War. They bought a little of everything each from the lady with the snack cart; Harry's favourite being the Pumpkin Pasties and Neville's being the Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. After an hour or two their compartment door slid open; standing in the doorway was the youngest redheaded boy. He surveyed the compartment, noting the pile of sweets and the muggle cards before he noticed Zuri wrapped around Neville. His eyes widened and he pointed to her with a shaky hand, "What have you got a great bloody snake wrapped around you for?"

Lily hissed in indignation at the boy's language and Harry frowned, "She's my familiar, she's wrapped around Neville because she likes him." Neville started stroking her head to emphasize the point.

The boy's mouth dropped open before he stuttered out, "H-How do you know it likes him?"

Harry's frown deepened, "SHE told me she likes him, that's how I know."

His eyes snapped to Harry at this and his voice hardened, "You're a Parseltongue?" he exclaimed.

"First off, he is a Parsel_mouth_; Parsel_tongue_ is the language he speaks. Secondly, so what if he is?" Neville demanded, "Merlin was a Parselmouth too. Just because two famous Dark Wizards were Parselmouths doesn't mean that everyone that _inherits_ the ability is born dark. You shouldn't judge people based on things they have no control over, it would be as if we automatically didn't like you because you have red hair. It's not something you can choose to have." Neville was on his feet by now, Zuri sliding around his arm and waist, in constant motion from Neville's agitation.

The boy's features darkened and he shook his head, "Its evil."

"Show's what you know. It is a precious commodity in countries like Australia, Africa, and China because of all the indigenous poisonous snakes there, like Zuri here." Harry said, gesturing to her as he also stood, shifting Trevor to his shoulder.

His eyes snapped back to Zuri and his face drained of colour, "It's poisonous?" he asked taking a step back and out of the compartment.

"Yes, SHE is and SHE does not appreciate being referred to as an 'it', nor do I. So if you would kindly take your narrow-minded bigoted views somewhere else." Harry made shooing motions at the youngest redhead as Neville slammed the door in his face, using his left hand to practically thrust Zuri as close to the rude boy as possible.

No sooner did they settle back down before their door was slid open once again, this time revealing a skinny, pointy faced boy with silvery blonde hair. "That Weasley boy was complaining about a poisonous snake in this compartment. I see he was correct," there was admiration in his voice as he studied the still coiled snake for a moment, "That, is a beautiful Black Mamba."

Zuri hissed at his words and noticeably preened. Harry laughed and shook his head.

"What did she say?" Neville asked a small grin on his face as he stroked her head again, to her enjoyment.

"She said she knows she's beautiful, that's why she's named Zuri; it's Swahili for Beautiful." Harry laughed.

The pointy faced boy's eyebrows shot up in shock, "You're a Parselmouth?"

Neville groaned as Harry rolled his eyes, "Not this again." Neville mumbled, his face in his palm, "At least _he _knows that it's Mouth and not Tongue."

"Yes, I'm a Parselmouth and no, I'm not a 'Dark Wizard'" Harry said, again making air quotes, "Just because I was born with certain abilities doesn't make me inherently evil."

The boy raised his hands in a placating gesture, "I didn't say you were evil, I was just surprised. It's a very uncommon, if not rare, gift."

"Well at least your open minded, this is Zuri, Trevor, Neville Longbottom," Harry said, pointing to each in turn, "and I'm Harry Potter."

As expected, the boy's eyes shot to the scar on Harry's face, but he immediately lowered his gaze to Harry's eyes, "Sorry about that, it was a reflex. It's a pleasure to meet you all; my name is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Harry smiled at his name, ignoring his father's warning that the boy was rotten because of his father; he'd make his own opinions of the boy, and Draco's eyes narrowed as his cheeks pinked, "Do you think my name is funny?"

Harry shook his head quickly, "No, I like it. It means dragon."

Draco smiled at that and moved further into the compartment; offering his hand first to Neville, then Harry.

"Would you like to join us for the rest of the trip?" Neville offered, lifting his feet off the seat in invitation.

"Yes, feel free; we have plenty of treats too. Nev and I already ate all of our favourites, but you're welcome to the chocolate frogs, cauldron cakes, and Bertie Bott's." Harry added, gesturing to the pile of sweets. Draco nodded, grinning, and took the offered seat and a box of the every flavour beans.

5


	7. 7 An Odd Sort

Harry Potter and the Spirits Within

Chapter 7: An Odd Sort

**A/N: I had a comment about James and Harry 'forgetting' about Sirius being in prison and wanted to correct this thought. They haven't forgotten; they just have no proof that he's innocent. Remember Harry hasn't seen Scabbers yet and the Goblins won't be believed, much like Remus wouldn't have been in PoA cannon. Non-humans and even Non-Purebloods will not be heard in the corrupt ministry they have in PS.**

Summary: The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son.

Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own (or live in, magic rocks) the 'Potterverse' … I do not.

Draco, Neville and Harry had passed the remainder of the trip to Hogwarts together, alternating between conversation, laughter and a comfortable silence. There was a point where Draco started talking about blood purity and how wizards were better than muggles. Harry and Neville were quick to counter his arguments. First about muggles, citing their advances in technology and science, and how wizards did a lot with magic that muggles had figured out with science decades ago. The definitive argument for Draco was Harry mentioning that Muggles had figured out how to get to the moon, and in fact, had been there several times. When they began talking about blood purity, the conversation grew extremely solemn. After several minutes of back and forth, Harry decided to end it.

"Draco, think who you're talking to. Neville and I both lost our parents to Voldemort's ideas of blood purity." The two boys gasped and flinched, and he decided to nip this in the bud immediately, "What?"

"No one says his name; we just say 'You-Know-Who', 'Dark Lord', or 'He-who-Must-Not-Be-Named'." Draco answered.

"Voldemort personally killed my parents; I'm calling him by his name. And, not to put too fine a point on it, but _your_ aunt and uncle took Nev's parents from him. There is no argument you could give us about purebloods being better than half-bloods or muggle-borns that could make our losses worth it. Imagine your parents being ripped from you because someone thought it would be a good idea to remove the purebloods to make way for new blood."

This, more than anything, opened Draco's eyes to the horrors his family and others of like minds had committed for an idea that didn't really make sense. He then decided to shed his father's dogma, and make up his own mind.

Later, it was Draco who noticed that the train seemed to be slowing, confirmed by the fact that the countryside was no longer streaming by. Figuring it was about the right time, they had barely shed their jackets before a disembodied voice echoed through the train, "We will be reaching Hogsmead Station in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."

Harry grinned in anticipation and the two boys mirrored him. The friendship was new, but the fact that they were in the same boat had eased most of their nerves. The last of the sweets, candies and pastries disappeared in to Harry's trunk. Zuri was returned to her habitat, and was accompanied by Trevor with the understanding that he was not for eating. Shrinking his trunk and pocketing it, he joined the mish mash of students in the corridor, shuffling his way towards the exit, stumbling out onto the tiny, barely lit platform. There was no wind, but still, tendrils of chilly mist seem to wisp around them, sucking the warmth from the gaggle of children Harry recognized as the rest of the first years.

Out of the darkness, a lamp flared to life, illuminating a giant of a man, who seemed to be more beard and hair than actual face. His voice was a deep boom, like a cannon firing, that grabbed and held their attention more than his words ever could, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! C'mon, follow me — any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed the large man down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. "Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," their guide called over his enormous shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud, "Oooooh!" as the narrow path opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" the huge man called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry, Neville, and Draco were followed into their boat by a nervous looking bushy-haired witch. "Everyone in?" he shouted, filling a boat by himself. "Right then — Forward!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled the walking mountain as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they climbed out onto rocks and pebbles. They then clambered up a passageway in the rock after the massive man's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door. "Everyone here?" the immense man raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

As the castle doors opened, Harry caught sight of a magnificently large cavernous room. Then Harry saw who had opened the doors; when he had been staying at the Leaky Cauldron, she had been the first of the Heads of House that Dumbledore had sent. Attempting to sway him with his parent's antics in their school days and feeling certain that Harry would follow them into her house.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said the giant man.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was lit by torches; its ceiling was so high it was barely visible. There was a wide marble staircase opposite them, double doors to their right, and smaller doors scattered about. As they were led across the flagstone floor to one of the smaller doors off to the left, Harry's attention was caught by four massive hourglasses; filled, not with sand, but with gemstones as big as his fist. The first glass held innumerable fire red rubies, the second contained cobalt blue sapphires, within the third were forest green emeralds, and the fourth possessed golden yellow citrines.

Professor McGonagall left them in a small room after delivering a speech that his parents quoted along with her, word for word. Harry, Neville, and Draco were chatting about what they needed to do to be sorted. This was one of the things his parents had remained tight-lipped about; saying only that it was tradition for the 'firsties' not to know. Though they scoffed at the Weasley boy telling a sandy-haired lad that his brother told him they had to wrestle a troll, which was, although Harry wouldn't admit it, comforting in its own way, "Maybe it's a quiz, like a survey or something. They ask us stuff about ourselves and figure out where to put us from there." Harry suggested.

"No, that would take way to long." Draco replied, "Perhaps it's a spell they perform, and you turn the color of your house."

Harry and Neville nodded, thinking this plausible, "yeah, or we could put our names in a goblet or a hat or something and it spits it back out according to house, kind of like the cup from the Tri-wizard Tournament."

Draco nodded at this suggestion, but Harry was lost, "What's the Tri-wizard Tournament?"

He was on the verge of getting an answer in stereo from his friend and his parents, when the bushy-haired witch they'd shared their boat with joined them, "It's a competition between the three most prestigious schools in Europe. They each have a champion to fight for the school in three tasks and the champions are chosen by The Goblet of Fire. I read about it in a book about this school, Hogwarts: a History. I tried to find something on the sorting but they purposefully left out any information on it, I guess to keep the first years in suspense. My name is Hermione Granger, by the way. No one in my family is magical at all; it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, though it did explain all the odd things that had been happening when I was growing up, thank you for letting me share your boat with you."

Draco and Neville seemed to be in shock after this little spiel. Truth be told, Harry was too, but he had parents to bail him out, or his mother at least. "Poor dear, she must be terrified. Never knowing about magic until you get this strange letter, and then whisked away to this mid-boggling place where everything is new and different and you have no one to help you through it."

Harry, in a fit of compassion, held out his hand to the young witch. Her features lit up and she smiled broadly, revealing rather overlarge front teeth.

"This is Neville Longbottom, Draco Malfoy," each boy nodded as he was introduced, "and I am Harry Potter." He finished.

Oddly enough, her eyes did not flick up to his scar, though they did attempt to widen to the size of galleons. "You're Harry Potter? I've read about you, you're in several books."

Harry acted shocked –even though he'd read a great deal about himself during his summer studying – more to give Hermione and the rest a topic of conversation, to hopefully enlarge his circle of friends. Neville and Draco nodded confirming what she said, "What do they say about me?" he asked, even as his father mocked him about being a touch too snake like for his own good… whatever than meant.

"They mainly talk about what happened the night you defeated You-Know-Who." Neville answered.

Harry frowned at this, "I didn't defeat Voldemort." Predictably, they all flinched and he prepared to repeat what he'd said on the train, "What?"

"No one is supposed to say his name; the books all call him 'You-Know-Who' or 'He-who-Must-Not-Be-Named'." Hermione answered.

"His followers called him The Dark Lord." Draco added in a soft whisper, and Harry winced himself, well aware that it could not be an easy topic for his friend to talk about, after their eye opening conversation on the train.

Then Harry scoffed, "That's ridiculous, and I'm not going to be afraid of saying the name of a man who's been basically dead for the past ten years. Anyway I didn't defeat him, I was the only known survivor of that night, and no body was recovered. There is no proof that he is dead, and I'm not going to be caught off guard if he does return. Out of respect for others I won't say his name in public. But I'm not calling him by those absurd titles. I'll call him," he paused for a moment to run through names with his dad, "The Dork Lord, He-Who-Must-Be-Hyphenated, or Moldy Voldie. The best I can do for You-Know-Who is What's-His-Name, as it implies that he's not worth remembering."

His three new friends looked at him with a mixture of incredulity and amazement; never had they heard someone talk of the most evil wizard of their time with such blasé disrespect. They were saved from formulating a response by a scream from the back of the room. Some twenty-odd ghosts had just glided through the back wall. They were talking amongst themselves, apparently oblivious to the students milling about in the room, until one of them, a portly monk by the looks of him, took notice.

"New students!" said the ghost Lily identified as the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely, "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," a sharp voice said. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall, "Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

The four of them joined the line of students and headed back across the entrance hall to the double doors Harry had seen earlier. The room on the other side of those doors was, in two words, absolutely breathtaking. Thousands, possibly more than a hundred thousand candles floated in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were seated. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Harry's eyes were drawn upward and he saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. Hermione leant over and whispered, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in than book, _Hogwarts, a History_."

Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. For a few moments, nothing happened. Then the hat twitched, ripped open on one side, and began singing a song about the qualities of the different houses. The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

Professor McGonagall then stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. After a moment's pause —

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down with the Hufflepuffs. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan dashed off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined their ranks.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Weasley's twin brothers catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became the first Slytherin.

The Slytherin table was more self-possessed than the rest of the hall, but they applauded cordially for Millicent.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but with others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to Weasley in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly onto her head.

"RAVENCLAW!" shouted the hat. Hermione waved to Harry, Neville, and Draco, before heading to her table.

"Longbottom, Neville!"

The hat took a long time to decide with Neville, but it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" and Neville waved to Harry and Draco as he went to the Gryffindor table.

Draco stepped forward when his name was called and got placed at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

He headed to the Slytherin table after waving to Harry, looking pleased, though slightly apprehensive.

There weren't many people left now. "Moon"…, "Nott"…,

"Parkinson, Pansy!" joined Draco at the Slytherin table. Then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" were separated, one in Gryffindor and one in Ravenclaw. Then "Perks, Sally-Anne"…, and then, at last —

"Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"_Potter_, did she say?"

"_The _Harry Potter?"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited. _"Well, well, well."_ said a small voice in his ear. "_What have we here, Lily Evans and James Potter?"_

Harry's fingers gripped the edges of the stool in panic, _"Don't tell anyone_. _Please, we don't want anyone to know!"_

_"Ah, you mean you don't want Dumbledore to know_." said the small voice. _"Don't you worry dear boy, the old coot has been dipping his quill into too many inkwells as of late … get your mind out of the gutter James Potter, you know what I mean! Anyway, I would be delighted to pull the wool over his eyes for once."_

"_Thank you, err, Mr. Hat…"_

"_Call me Sortie, I was given that name by one Xenophilius Lovegood years ago and took rather a liking to it. Now where to place you, you are quite well rounded for an adolescent, no doubt due to your parents influence, you could fit in any of the houses really. Well, I've placed your other friends in separate houses, perhaps you four can finally bring my houses to a unity that hasn't been seen since the Founders days. To that end you shall be in – _HUFFLEPUFF!"

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked toward the Hufflepuff table. He was so relieved to have Sortie play along and not tell Dumbledore, he hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. A boy who introduced himself as Cedric Diggory got up and shook his hand warmly.

Harry sat down opposite the Fat Friar. The Friar patted his hand upon the table, giving Harry the sudden, horrible feeling he'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water. Shaking off the feeling, Harry looked down at his empty golden plate.

"Bit ostentatious, don't you think?" He mentally asked his parents.

"Actually, they used to be silver, but they had to change them the year we came to school." James replied.

"Really? What for?" Harry asked.

"That year, a boy came to the school that had an illness that was affected by silver. He was the kindest, smartest boy I knew. His name was Remus Lupin and he was, and still is, a werewolf." James said solemnly, a rare emotion for him.

He could see the High Table properly now. There, in the center of the Table, in a large golden chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts, he was looking at Harry with a combination of surprise and disappointment; apparently he didn't want his little savior in Hufflepuff. Harry looked back to the few remaining first years and had to bite his tongue to keep from bursting into laughter. The Weasley boy was staring at him with a mix of horror and defeat.

"Aww, seems he finally realized who he was insulting on the train, so much for trying to worm his way into your circle of friends." James laughed.

"We don't know for certain that he was told to do that, though that expression leaves little doubt." Lily replied.

Now there were only four people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," a tall black boy, joined Neville at the Gryffindor table.

"Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw, sitting next to Hermione, and then "Weasley, Ronald". After a few moments the hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry felt bad for Neville as Ronald Weasley gave him a contemptuous look and sat next to one of his twin brothers. Finally the last first year was called and "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin, joining Draco.


	8. 8 Castle Curiosities

Harry Potter and the Spirits Within

Chapter 8: Castle Curiosities

Summary: The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son.

Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own (or live in, magic rocks) the 'Potterverse' … I do not.

Harry slowly followed the Hufflepuff prefect, heading to the dormitories and Badger territory. For once his parents were just as excited; this was a completely new experience for all of them. Both James and Lily had been sorted into Gryffindor, and while they had had friends in the other houses (Lily had even had a friend in Slytherin; Severus Snape), they had never been in the other common rooms. The Prefect led the First Years through the doors of the great hall and towards the grand staircase. However, instead of going up the stairs they ware lead to a door off to the right. After descending a flight of stairs they came to a stack of large barrels in a nook on the right hand side of the kitchen corridor. The Prefect, who had introduced herself as Gabriel Truman, beckoned them forward, "This is the entrance to our common room, Tap the barrel two from the bottom, middle of the second row, in the rhythm of 'Helga Hufflepuff', and the lid will swing open. We are the only house at Hogwarts that also has a repelling device for would-be intruders. If the wrong lid is tapped, or if the rhythm of the tapping is wrong, the illegal entrant is doused in vinegar."

Gabriel tapped the sequence out on the correct lid and the barrel lid swung open; one by one they crawled inside, along the passageway behind it, and emerged into the coziest room Harry had ever seen. It was round, earthy and low-ceilinged and its circular windows had a view of rippling grass and dandelions. There was a lot of burnished copper about the place, and many plants, which either hung from the ceiling or sat on the windowsills.

Gabriel spoke up again after everyone had come through the passageway, "Our Head of house, Professor Pomona Sprout, is Head of Herbology, and she brings the most interesting specimens, some of which dance and talk, to decorate our room – one reason why Hufflepuffs are often very good at Herbology."

Harry looked around again, the overstuffed sofas and chairs were upholstered in golden yellow and sable black, Harry noticed that the room was arranged rather oddly. Rather than having separate sections for studding, playing games, and socializing, everything was rather haphazardly placed around the open room. He turned toward Gabriel as she started speaking again,

"Now I know our set up seems a bit slap dash, but we firmly believe in unity and devotion. Everyone works and cooperates with each other. We act as a family unit. You will hear other houses boast of their security arrangements, but it so happens that in more than a thousand years, the Hufflepuff common room and dormitories have never been seen by outsiders. Like badgers, we know exactly how to lie low – and how to defend ourselves." Her voice grew slightly cold, "We are looked on as the weakest of the four houses, the leftovers, the rejects, the ones who weren't good enough to get into the other houses. For this we must band together within our house to prevent the others from taking advantage of us. I won't sugar coat it for you; even with the famed Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry, Hufflepuffs are the ones most often jinxed, cursed, tricked, been the butt of cruel jokes, and even attacked ... both magically and sexually."

There were shocked gasps around the group.

"Yes, this is why we must stick together as a house. They may treat us as the underdogs, but this also means they underestimate us. They think we are all pushovers and if we are open and honest with each other when one of us is attacked the attacker will have the entire houses retaliation to deal with. Now, the boys rooms are down the hall on the right and the girls are down the hall to the left; a brief warning to the boys, the girls hall is spelled to trap any boy stepping foot within it, so don't try. Our house ghost is the friendliest of them all: the Fat Friar. You'll recognize him easily enough; he's plump and wears monk's robes, and he's very helpful if you get lost or are in any kind of trouble. Alright, have a good night and we'll see you in the morning."

Harry followed the other First Year boys down the right-hand hall and to their door. All of the dormitory doors were black, perfectly round like a barrel top, with a shiny brass knob set in the centre. Lily remarked that they were like the hobbit holes in Tolkien's 'The Hobbit'; one of her favourite books. Copper lamps cast a warm light over the four-posters, all of which were covered in patchwork quilts, and copper bed warmers hung on the walls, should they have cold feet. In the First Year dorm room there were three beds; one for him and one each for Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ernie MacMillan. They were interspersed around a circular room; the four-poster beds were hung with golden yellow drapes and laid with black bedding. Beside each bed was a small desk and chair; for homework and studying, with a small bookshelf above the desk. At the foot of two of the beds was a standard black trunk, Harry immediately knew which bed was his as his trunk was still securely tucked into his pocket. The other two boys were exploring the room as well, Ernie was at the other side where he opened an identical door, revealing a full bathroom; complete with shower and tub. Justin was reading the names on the identical trunks, announcing that the bed to the left of Harry's bed was his and the one to the right was Ernie's.

Justin looked up at Harry in confusion, "Did you not bring a trunk Harry?"

Harry grinned and nodded, "Oh, I did. When I went to Diagon Alley I was alone, so I went a bit overboard with my purchases. Of course seeing as I didn't have any wizarding possessions before then, I could have done even worse and only gotten the barest essentials. Anyway, when I got to the trunk shop I found the multi-compartment trunks and I saw the usefulness in them, so I got one." He pulled his trunk from his pocket, set it in front of his bed, and enlarged it. The other two boys stared and moved in closer. Harry ran his hand across the seven locks on his trunk and opened the first one, revealing his 'library' compartment. Justin a muggleborn, who was not as accustomed to magic gaped, and Ernie; a pure-blood, whistled appreciatively. "I have quite an extensive collection of books now, although I've yet to read most of them." He closed the lid and opened the second lock, inside this one was his sitting room and the boys admired it briefly before moving on through each lock viewing the kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, and study. Harry paused before the final, seventh lock. "There is something you need to know and accept before I will show you this compartment. I have heard that I possess a unique gift, even for a wizard. Before I tell you what it is, I want to make it known that Merlin himself had this ability, and that only recently has it been viewed as 'dark'." Harry paused and took a breath, "I am a Parselmouth."

Both the boys mouths dropped open before Ernie composed himself and nodded, "One of my several times great uncle was one as well, he was ridiculed for it because of Slytherin's reputation. Many people tend to want to forget that the greatest wizard of our past was a Snake Speaker, they only want to acknowledge those who were dark with the ability."

By the end of this revealing piece of information Justin was nodding, already accepting Harry's ability. He paused, "Why are you telling us this, do you have a snake in that last compartment?"

Harry laughed and nodded, "As a matter of fact," he unlocked the final lock and opened the lid. Zuri slid out, having been resting on a branch near the opening, "I do! Gentlemen, meet Zuri. I'm going to introduce you to her, so I'll be speaking in hisses; it's a bit unnerving at first so brace yourselves." He turned back to Zuri, "_These are Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ernie Macmillan, and they are to be our roommates._"

Turning back to the boys Harry noted that they both looked a bit peaky. Ernie was the first to speak, "Well that was disturbing, I can see how it can be thought of as dark. It sounds menacing no matter what you say, and you were just introducing us, right?"

Harry nodded, "The funny thing is; I don't hear it. When she talks or I speak to her, I hear it as English. There is no hissing."

"Well that's bizarre, I wonder if it was that way with your great uncle, Ernie." Justin mused.

Ernie shrugged, "I don't know, he never really spoke of it, considering how ostracized he was because of it."

Harry nodded, pulling out his pyjamas before shrinking his trunk again, "I can understand that, I had a rather unpleasant encounter with a narrow-minded boy on the train. Ron Weasley, now a Gryffindor, was adamant that it was evil and he wouldn't hear anything to the contrary. Now, you may be wondering why I chose to show you all of this instead of just keeping it to myself, including Zuri and my abilities. I figure that were going to be living together for the next seven years minus the summers. We need to be able to trust each other, but I do have a bit of security. Two of the features on the trunk are that no one but me can open it, and that no one can move it when I am in it. So, should I actually leave it somewhere, it and its contents will be protected." Harry began changing for bed.

Ernie and Justin nodded, following suit, "Good thinking, wish I could afford one." Ernie said, "Those things are outrageously expensive."

Harry smiled, a little embarrassed at his extravagant purchases, "Yes, well ... in strictest confidence, my 'relatives' are not the greatest people alive. They have this idea of normal and anything that doesn't fall into that mould is hidden away. When I arrived I was the personification of anything and everything they hated and feared, so I was not treated as a member of their perfect family. In keeping with that they gave me only the barest essentials to stay relatively healthy and prevent any outside suspicion. I never had toys, new clothing, adequate food, the list goes on. So when I finally came to the wizarding world and found myself the heir to my parents' fortune, I splurged a bit."

Ernie and Justin were shocked and appalled by this revelation. They had never imagined that the famous Harry Potter could be treated this way by his own family.

Harry frowned, "Keep in mind, I did not tell you this trying to garner your sympathy. I have severed ties with my relations and don't intend on ever going back. I just didn't want you to think I was full of myself, or thought I deserved this stuff because of my fame. I actually don't like being famous for something I had no control over. In all actuality, the only thing I'm famous for is surviving something no one else has. That's nothing to be proud of or to flaunt about; I see that as a slap in the face to the friends and relatives of those that _didn't_ survive."

The boys were beaming and nodding by the end of this, "You are just a normal guy, aren't you? That's all you want to be seen as." Justin commented while climbing into his four-poster.

Harry nodded emphatically, "More than anything." He said, pulling his hangings closed and settling into bed. Thinking about the odd warning Dumbledore had given them 'the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side was out of bounds to everyone who did not want to die a very painful death'. It was a real test of trust for him to expect a school full of children not to satisfy their curiosity.

~*oo*~

The next morning at the Hufflepuff table, Harry received his class schedule from Professor Sprout. After briefly scanning it he looked to the three other house tables and his first friends. Neville seemed to be getting on well with two of his Gryffindor house mates; he nodded to Harry and sent a glance down the table to Ronald Weasley, who was scowling into his porridge, seated between his twin brothers, who were studiously ignoring their brother. Raising an eyebrow at this Harry looked to Hermione at the Ravenclaw table, finding her chatting avidly with one of the twin girls that was sorted last night, a Parvarti or Padma Patil; Harry couldn't remember which one had been sorted to Ravenclaw. After a few attempts, he caught her eye and she nodded as well. Finally looking to the Slytherins he found Draco seated next to a dark-skinned boy whose name Harry only remembered because he was sorted last, Blaise Zabini and he were having a polite conversation over their breakfast; Harry could see that the other Slytherins were a bit taken aback by Draco's sudden change in attitude. Two hulking boys and a pug-faced girl seemed at a bit of a loss and were watching the conversation between the two with confused expressions on their faces. Harry caught the eye of his final friend and received his nod as well.

After finishing their breakfasts, the four friends met up in the entrance hall and compared schedules. The Slytherins and Gryffindors had only one class together, Potions. While the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs shared the most, though there were a few exceptions. That mornings' class was Charms for Harry and Hermione and Potions for Draco and Neville. Talk then turned to their new roommates and Neville started off with the Gryffindors.

"Well, the Weasley boy is just as much a bigoted jerk as his first impression on the train implied. He immediately snitched on you to the other Gryffs about being a Parselmouth. Half of them were about as horrified as he was, until I told them you were my friend and a nice guy, and about Merlin and so forth. Also that I'd held your snake and she was very friendly as well. Well, after a few odd looks they all seemed to calm down and his brothers, the twins, got on to him for telling someone else's business. They asked him if he would like it if someone told all his secrets to people, like the reason he was afraid of spiders. He got all red-faced and left after that. Their names are Fred and George by the way, but don't ask me to tell you which one is which, I can't differentiate between them. The other two in my room are Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, a muggle born and half-blood respectively, so far they're pretty cool."

Hermione picked up from there, "The Ravens are all pretty nice, although there are a few who are kind of stuck up. One of the girls in my room and I really hit it off, her name is Padma Patil and her twin sister, Parvarti, is in Gryffindor with Neville, apparently she's a bit of a gossip girl, not at all like Padma. There wasn't any drama like Neville had," She grinned at him, "as no one spilled the beans about your abilities, but it was lovely meeting all the other Ravens." Harry had told her about being a Parselmouth when they were waiting to be sorted. She had treated it about like Neville had, and was looking forward to meeting Zuri.

Draco stepped up for his turn, "The Slytherins are an 'interesting' group," he started, making the air quotes Harry had liberally use the previous day, "Half of them are what I use to be, death eaters in training, the others are on the fence. Although I caused quite a stir when I sided with the non-death eaters," he looked pleased at having caused confusion in the ranks. After the long talk he'd had with Harry and Neville on the train about their parents and what had happened to them and others by the death eaters, he had come to realize that his father was very wrong in some of his thinking and that he would no longer blindly follow him, or anyone whose views he did not believe in. "Blaise Zabini is one of the 'on the fence' first years I met. He's smart, and once he found out I was not following my father he and I talked a lot."

Harry finished off, "The Puffs are a great group, they really stress inner-house co-operation. Apparently all the other houses harass them all the time, thinking they're weak. The two guys I'm rooming with are nice, Ernie MacMillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley, I told them about Zuri and my abilities right off the bat because I'll be rooming with them for seven years, and something like that would be hard to keep a secret. They were really cool about it. Ernie's got a great, great, so on, uncle who's one, so he can relate." The bell rang just as Harry finished and the group split in two to go to their respective classes, Charms for the Puffs and Ravens and Potions for the Gryffs and Snakes.

~*oo*~

Harry and Hermione headed to Professor Flitwick and Charms. As they took their seats in the front the wee Professor climbed up a staircase of books and took his place behind a podium. He began the class by taking attendance. When he reached Harry's name he looked up at him and crooked an eyebrow, a silent acknowledgement of their previous conversation. Hermione looked from one to the other for a moment in confusion before shrugging and preparing to take notes. Class proceeded normally, with copious note taking before attempting to make the ends of their wands light up with a spell called Lumos, which Harry and Hermione nailed almost simultaneously.

After class they met up with Draco and Neville in the Entrance Hall. They all shared their views on their first classes and the teachers of those subjects. Professor Snape was apparently very conflicted during the Gryffindor/Slytherin class, hating the Gryffs while favouring the Snakes. Harry explained about the look Professor Flitwick had given him, and what it meant, before they all had to head to their next classes, Transfiguration for Harry and Draco and Defence against the Dark Arts for Neville and Hermione. They would soon discover that most of the classes involved bountiful note taking for the next month, with all the really interesting spells not to be learned until much later in the year.

That evening, before going to his common room, Harry made his way up to the Owlry. He'd had an idea earlier in the summer, but not wanted to risk Hedwig on a vague destination, so he had decided to seek out a school owl. Hedwig flew down from the rafters as soon as Harry stepped through the door; she landed on his arm and hooted in greeting. Harry stroked the feathers between her shoulders, a spot she couldn't easily reach, and asked, "Did you find a volunteer?"

She bobbed her head and hooted over her shoulder before flying to a low perch. From the rafters flew a black owl that was the largest bird Harry had ever seen, who landed on the sill in front of them. Easily twice the size of Hedwig, he was an intimidating creature and Harry felt this fellow would be safe no matter where his quarry was. Harry pulled a letter from his robes and tied it to the leg of the massive owl. Stroking his crest Harry looked him in his golden orange eyes and said, "This is to go to Remus Lupin. He's a werewolf so he could be somewhere dangerous. Take care and have a safe flight."

Harry watched the owl fly off into the dusk before heading down to bed.

**A/N: The Hufflepuff common room and entrance descriptions (as well as the Prefects name) were taken from the Pottermore introduction to those sorted into Hufflepuff. I purposely became a Puff to get the info, which is the closest to cannon as I can get as it's still J.K.'s ideas, it just was never mentioned in the actual books (oddly enough Hufflepuff was the only common room Harry never entered).**


	9. 9 Quirkey Quirrell & Precious Parchment

Harry Potter and the Spirits Within

Chapter 9: Quirky Quirrell and Precious Parchment

Summary: The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son.

Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own (or live in, magic rocks) the 'Potterverse' … I do not.

**A/N: Yana5 asked "If Snape looked in Harry's mind would he see Lily?" to answer; yes he would ... if they ever let him past their combined occlumency shields. The three Potters have interwoven their shields so that ****no one**** could break through them. While it is a possibility that they would let him in, they would have to have achieved a level of trust with the Potions Master that will not happen this year, or likely at all while Voldemort still 'lives'.**

September, and their first month of school passed in a flurry of note taking, spell casting, and friend making. The friends the four had made on their first nights in their new houses had all joined their crowd, including the Weasley twins who had mentioned to Neville that they admired the way he had stood up for Harry in the face of Ron's immature narrow-mindedness. As their group was now twelve students strong they took to meeting in the Great Hall before breakfast, lunch, and dinner for updates. Anything from the subject matter discussed to the temperament of the professors to any odd occurrences in the class was mentioned to the others. At the end of each day, after dinner they all met again in the library for an hour of homework, helping each other in weak areas and double-checking each other's work. While Fred and George were two years ahead of the others, and had already done the material, they were able to give them insights on easier ways to achieve the same goals and shortening their work load, while getting quizzed from their books by the others.

Professor Flitwick had warmed up to Harry after seeing his dedication and the classes were becoming more interesting, as they were preparing to begin more difficult spell work soon. Likewise, Professor McGonagall, who had started frosty towards Harry due to their previous encounter, had taken to him as she too had been impressed by his work ethic. Professor Sprout had been thrilled when Harry had been sorted into her house and had been, and continued to be pleasant and friendly to Harry. Perhaps the oddest turnaround was Professor Snape, who seemed at a loss as to how to treat Harry. He had seemed positive that he was a clone of his father, and his placement in Hufflepuff had thrown the preverbal wrench into the works. He was a smart man, whatever his eccentricities and he knew that James Potter would have never been a Hufflepuff, but he couldn't help but see James when he looked at Harry. They were, as had been made _abundantly_ clear by anyone who had known James, oddly identical, excepting of course, his mothers green eyes. Therefore, Severus Snape had taken to treating Harry as just another random non-Slytherin student, giving no praise and plenty of criticism, but not specifically singling him out.

The teachers Harry had that he hadn't met before school were his Astronomy, History of Magic, and Defence Against the Dark Arts professors. Astronomy was done at midnight once a week and involved long hours of staring at what stars they could see and mapping their locations. Lily had explained to Harry about the planetariums in the Muggle world when he was shopping in Diagon Ally and James had mentioned what a crock Astronomy Class was due to being so far north and not able to see many of the constellations. Consequently, Harry had splurged on his miniature moving globe of the galaxy, which had adjustable features that allowed him to see any constellation in the sky, and do better work than their location allowed. He also, of course, shared the model with his group of friends.

History of Magic was an exceedingly boring class, taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had died in his chair in the staff room and his ghost had gotten up the next day to continue classes. Lily and James knew from their own experience with the insubstantial instructor that Harry would never be able to retain anything if he tried to stay awake during the class. So for this lesson only, they agreed to help him. Harry spent the class meditating, working with his parents in his mindscape to organize the information his subconscious perceived into his memory library, so that when it came time to take tests he would be able to recall it. Harry was on the receiving end of a brief lecture from Hermione for sleeping in class before he explained about the meditation and gave an example; quoting a bit of the class from a point she believed him to be fast asleep. She immediately wanted to learn how to do it.

"It'll take a long time to be able to prepare your mind for that kind of meditation." Harry tried to explain.

Hermione was adamant, "I don't care Harry, if it can help me retain information from this class without writing down every word he says I need to know it."

Harry conceded, "Alright, but it will take a lot of work, I'll show the others how to do it too. It'll be part of our studying after dinner; we may have to extend the study time though."

Hermione was content with this and it was brought before the group when they met before lunch. It was greeted with much enthusiasm, as many of them did not have the ability to stay awake in the class, much less take notes.

Then there was the oddball Professor Quirrell. The stuttering Defence professor seemed ill suited for the job, and as time wore on Harry and his parents started to notice more and more curious behaviour from the twitchy teacher. His first oddity was, of course, the most obvious: his turban. A putridly purple affair that reeked of garlic and rot, it was widely rumoured that it was stuffed with actual garlic to ward off vampires, however the Weasley Twins admitted in the relative privacy of the group that they had started the rumour as a joke. Of course, anyone who would really look into this rumour would discover that it was absolute malarkey.

The other peculiar thing about him was not as easy to notice: his stutter. It wasn't that the stutter was hard to hear, on the contrary, one could barely understand the man at times. It was that, occasionally, it seemed as though he 'forgot' to stutter, and he would complete full sentences before starting again. Every now and then, if Harry paid close attention, he would notice Quirrell catch himself and twitch or shake his head minutely. As if to remind himself that he was supposed to be stuttering. After the second time this happened Harry started looking for, and finding, it more and more frequently. The Potters couldn't figure out why someone would want to fake a stutter. As James so eloquently put it, "That would get bloody annoying." It was Lily who pointed out that it would make one seem less of a threat and easily underestimated. Thinking on this they decided to keep an eye on Quirrell, especially when he forgot to stutter.

As the days moved into October, another abnormality of Quirrell's surfaced. While in all their other classes they were beginning to practice actual spells and potions, Quirrell still had them studying and doing book work. They never used their wands and never had a practical class. The other students were either miffed at the lack of learning or pleased at having such an easy class. Harry however, was suspicious, and after mentioning to his group of friends the mounting bizarre quirks of their professor, they were as well. In fact, Quirrell seemed to be getting more and more nervous as the end of the month drew near; shifting around in class, jumping at sudden sounds, and talking to himself under his breath with nary a stumble in his speech. Everyone agreed that he seemed to be psyching himself up for something and decided to prepare as well. Each house specific cluster of friends started to follow him in shifts, with the twins taking a shift to themselves, sticking together so no one was caught on their own with him. Finally, a week from the 31st, they had a breakthrough when Padma and Hermione overheard him mutter; "I'll do it on Halloween, during the feast. Yes, that will be best, no snotty brats in the way then."

With this bit of information, Harry and the others stopped following him, waiting for the fateful night for him to act. That evening the twins, after a whispered conversation between the two of them, gathered the group together in their usual spot in the library and presented them with an old, blank piece of parchment. Most of the crowd were confused, waiting for the punch line to this bizarre joke. Harry however, due to James whooping like a school boy and shouting about his lost map, grinned widely. This did not go unnoticed by the twins, who had been looking to Harry, as the unofficial leader of the group, first for his reaction when they 'turned it on'. His grin gave them pause, however, and they shared a glance before laying it on the table in front of Harry and crossed their identical arms in unison. Harry looked from them to the map and back again.

"What do I do?" he asked James. He knew the phrase to activate it, of course, but to do that would invite a slew of questions he was not prepared to answer.

Fred interrupted his internal conversation before it got started, "Well Harry, care to explain why you are so excited to see a bit of old parchment?"

Harry blinked a few times; buying his time while James gave him hurried instructions. "Well, you guys presented it with such flair, and, you're you. I've come to expect something really brilliant to happen when you give such a mundane object such an exciting introduction."

The twins preened at the praise and accepted the excuse, turning with the rest of the group to the parchment and Harry visibly relaxed, until he noticed Neville still watching him and growing more and more curious. Realizing he had been caught in his lie he minutely shook his head and mouthed 'later'. Breathing a sigh of relief as Neville nodded, he turned to the twins just as they intoned together, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

James was dancing around Harry's mindscape with Lily as the black lines wove themselves into the map of Hogwarts, popped up into wee footprints complete with names, and finally scrolled out into intricate writing, proclaiming: Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs present The Marauders Map. James started babbling on about the spells they invented to get it to show people and how it couldn't be fooled by polyjuice, animagus forms, or invisibility cloaks. When the writing appeared he grew more nostalgic and murmured that it was Moony's handwriting, as he had the best penmanship. How it was Padfoot's genius with spellwork that got it to show movement. How he himself had spent hours in this very library trying to find a spell to see through invisibility cloaks. He begrudgingly admitted that it was Pettigrew - he refused to use his marauder name, saying he had lost that privilege - who thought of having it insult who ever gave it the wrong password.

"Peter was the one who lost it," James said, sitting back down, "In our sixth year. By then he was the only one who needed it on a regular basis, the rest of us had the castle memorized. He was cutting through a secret passage when he ran into Filch, how he didn't see him on the map I'll never know. He was able to wipe it, though, before Filch took it from him."

Meanwhile, everyone was pouring over the map, amazed at the detail and spellwork. Hermione was especially amazed, "There are a lot of complicated spells on this! Who made it?"

"We don't know their real names..." George began.

"My dad and his friends made it." Harry said, surprising everyone, including his parents. Internally he said, "I want you to be remembered for more than being the parents of The Boy Who Lived, and I can chalk this one up to memories. After all, I do remember Moony and Padfoot." He had intentionally left out Peter, following his father's lead. The glow of pride on James' face gave Harry a small grin in the face of all of his friends' stares.

"How do you know that, Harry?" Draco asked, looking amazed and confused.

"I remember those names, I had an Uncle Moony, Uncle Padfoot ... Uncle Wormtail, and I remember my dad being called Prongs as often as he was called James." Harry took a deep breath, staring at the map, "Remus Lupin was Moony, Sirius Black was Padfoot ... Pe – Peter Pettigrew was Wormtail."

There was a shared glance throughout the group; obviously there was something they didn't want to tell Harry. Guessing, correctly, that it was about Sirius Black he headed them off, "I know what you're going to say about Sirius, and you're wrong." He smiled slightly at their shocked and indignant faces, "When I first entered the magical world, I went to Gringotts and saw my parents will. It stipulated that I was to go to one of four different people and was to NEVER go to my 'relations'. Those people were Sirius Black, Alice Longbottom, Remus Lupin, or Poppy Pomfrey. When I asked why that hadn't happened the goblins told me that Sirius was falsely imprisoned and that Peter Pettigrew was the true betrayer and murderer. Remus was and is a werewolf and was denied my custody, and Madam Pomfrey was never told, because of Dumbledore." He purposefully left out Neville's mum, letting him tell that story when he was ready. He had thought that everyone would focus on Dumbledore's interfering. However, it seemed Neville would have to decide now as Padma had picked up on the omission.

"What about Alice Longbottom, is that your mum Neville?"

Neville nodded and sighed deeply, "My mum ... and my dad ... were tortured into insanity with the Cruciatus Curse by Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange and Barty Crouch Jr. They live in St. Mungo's now, in the long term care ward." He paused and took a shuddering breath, as Harry placed an arm around his shoulders, "I visit them every holiday, they ... they don't recognize me."

The girls in the group by now were in tears, and the guys were in various levels of discomfort, none more so, however, than Draco. After a moment he got up and knelt beside Neville's chair. Putting a hand on Neville's shaking arm, he spoke in a wavering voice, "Nev, I am so sorry for what my family has done to yours. I want you to know that I will cast my aunt out of the family as soon as I have the power to do so, and I wish I could do something now to make up for what happened to your parents."

After a moment of shock Neville nodded and clapped a hand to Draco's shoulder, "Draco, you have nothing to apologize for. You were only one when your aunt and uncle tortured my parents, though I do appreciate your offer to remove Bellatrix from your family. I know there is nothing able to bring my parents back, but having you and everyone else as friends has made it easier to live without them. "

Draco stood and they shook hands warmly, though Draco made a silent vow to do anything he could to return the Longbottoms to their right minds. Everyone smiled and the girls dried their eyes before Ernie blinked and turned to Harry, "Have you told Madam Pomfrey that you were supposed to be in her care?"

Harry shook his head, "I never had the opportunity as it's not really a good conversation starter. I'll try talking to her after this Halloween mess is over."

With that the group broke up and headed to their dorms, heads filled with thoughts of Harry, Neville, Quirrell, and the manipulations of their Headmaster.


	10. 10 Hallow'een Horrors

Harry Potter and the Spirits Within

Chapter 10: Hallow'een Horrors

Summary: The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son.

Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own (or live in, magic rocks) the 'Potterverse' … I do not.

**A/N: Several people have commented on a few points that I'd like to address. First, Draco casting Trixie out of the family is not so much removing any position she has or doesn't have; it's more that he will not give her asylum should she ever come to Malfoy Manor, effectively banning her from his house. This would be a big problem for her as she would have nowhere else to go. Second, Pettigrew on the map, remember the twins have only had the map for two years at most. They said in Canon that they found it in their first year but not when in that year. It could have been at the end of the year. Also, I'm sure they had better things to look for on the map than their annoying brothers (remember Scabbers was Percy's before he was Ron's and Percy may have left him at home or in his dorm during school), even for a prank. Rest assured though they will notice him sooner rather than later. Finally, Zacharias Smith, it is never mentioned when he was sorted, and I'm taking it as artistic licence that he was at least a year above Harry and crew and as he has such an abrasive personality Harry would have gone out of his way to avoid him, he may show up later though.**

With the map now available to the group, tailing Quirrell became much easier. Harry and his friends were able to keep tabs on Quirrell for the rest of the week leading up to Hallow'een. The day of the 31st dawned with nervous energy flowing through the students. For most it was the excitement of the feast that night, but for the twelve friends following Quirrell it was anticipation of what he was planning to do. For most of the day everything was normal, or as normal as a school of magic can be. However, when it came time to go down to the feast, the pulses of the twelve students and one professor started racing. Fred and George brought the map with them and sat at the end of the table near the door, and furthest from the teachers, with Neville, Dean, and Seamus sitting next to and across from them to keep people from seeing what they were doing.

There was a brief altercation when Ron demanded that Neville, who was next to them, move so he could sit with his twin brothers. They were lucky he was so rude about it or Fred and George would have had to be rather nasty to him for no apparent reason to get him to leave. As it was, his attitude got him snubbed by the group and he chose to sit at the other end of the table, closest to the teachers. Harry, Justin and Ernie, Hermione and Padma, and Draco and Blaise all sat at the same ends of their tables as the Gryffindors, and were able to fairly easily converse with one another across the aisles. The food had just appeared and the twelve were tentatively loading their plates when Quirrell dashed into the room, his face a mask of terror and his turban askew. He raced up to Dumbledore as all eyes followed him, twelve of those pairs narrowed in suspicion.

"Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know." He exclaimed to the Headmaster without a single stammer before he fainted dead away.

Harry and the others exchanged significant glances in the ensuing commotion; they each had noticed his lack of stutter. Harry could see the twins pouring over the map before looking up and shaking their heads in unison.

"It won't show non-humans, aside from werewolves." James said. "We needed the species available to program it into the map and the only one we had, or cared about at the time, was Moony."

Harry was about to answer when Dumbledore shot purple firecrackers from his wand and everyone quieted. "Prefects, lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!" He ordered.

The majority of the school were already on their feet when Harry, bolstered by his parents, shouted over the din, "That's a terrible idea!"

You could have heard an owl pinfeather drop with how silent the Great Hall became after this proclamation. No one had ever contradicted Dumbledore before. He looked at Harry and quirked an eyebrow, is eyes twinkling annoyingly. "And why do you think sending the students to the safety of their dorms is such a bad idea, Mr. Potter?"

Harry succeeded in not rolling his eyes, though it was a close thing, "Because, sir, Professor Quirrell just said the troll was in the dungeons, and two of the Houses are in that direction. The Hufflepuffs are down a floor and the Slytherins are _in_ the dungeons, you really want to run the risk of sending them into the same location as the troll?"

Dumbledore blinked and shook his head, "You are quite right Mr. Potter," he turned to the teachers at the table with him, "Minerva, Filius, Severus follow me to secure the troll, the rest of you stay here with the students and seal the doors behind us." With that he and the three named professors swept out the door, closing it behind them.

Through the hullabaloo Professor Quirrell lay on the floor, ignored by almost everyone. After a few moments he sat up, looked around at the assembled students, the locked doors, and the remaining professors and a look of absolute fury passed over his face for a fraction of a second, before he stood and sat with his fellow professors. It could have gone completely unnoticed if it hadn't been for the twelve students watching him for any bizarre reactions. Those twelve stood and formed a cluster next to the doors, so that Quirrell would have to pass them to leave. They knew they wouldn't be able to stop him, but they would know he was gone and be able to follow him on the map. After forming their huddle, Fred and George activated the map in the centre of their group and located the troll hunting professors. Three of them were in the dungeons. McGonagall and Flitwick were by the Slytherin dorms, and Dumbledore was by the potions lab. Judging by their pace and speed, they were just walking, and they hadn't found the troll yet. Snape, however, was heading straight for the forbidden corridor of the third floor at a rapid clip. He entered the door leading to the corridor and suddenly started dancing around, acting very odd. They couldn't figure out what he was doing, but given the warning from Dumbledore they assumed he was dodging something.

~*o o*~

What the inhabitants of the castle didn't know was that the troll wasn't in the dungeons. He was currently roaming around the first floor, knocking paintings off the walls and crushing suits of armour. The residents of those frames that got damaged would have summoned the professors, but for one minor success in Quirrell's plan; the only portrait in the dungeons was a still life. A bowl of fruit that doubled as the door to the kitchens, and was incapable of housing any other painted creation. Also, there were no paintings in the Great Hall, so no one was able to be told of the damage occurring to the first floor until the three professors returned from the dungeons. The troll had been causing plenty of carnage on the first floor when it came to a staircase and stopped, it looked up towards the second floor and down towards the ground floor before tromping down the stairs to the Entrance Hall dragging his club behind him. It trudged over to the doors to the Great Hall, and, behind them, the student population of Hogwarts. Harry and his friends, positioned near the door as they were, heard the club thudding down the stairs and scraping along the floor, growing louder and louder as it grew closer to the doors. They looked at each other in shock and fear before rushing to the high table and causing the hum of conversation to quiet.

"It's right outside the door! We could hear it coming down the stairs! The troll is out there!" Harry said to the teachers staring at them. If he'd had the option he wouldn't have told Quirrell, but as he was sitting with the others there was no avoiding it. Professor Sprout rose to her feet and held her lit wand above her head to draw all eyes to her without arousing the suspicion of the troll outside the door.

"We must remain quiet and calm, all first through fifth years get back here behind the high table, sixth and seventh years in front of them to protect them." She paused as the troll pounded on the doors to the Great Hall, causing the students nearest to race to the high table in fear. She then turned to the other teachers, "We'll stand in front of the students. If that troll gets through those doors we have to protect the students." Everyone started moving into place as the troll banged on the door again, it shook ominously, but held. The teachers and upper years pointed their wands at the door as it shook in its frame again as the troll pounded on it, apparently smelling the people inside. Harry and his friends were pouring over the map, watching Dumbledore and the other professors still walking through the dungeons, obviously oblivious to the plight of the students. Snape however was rushing back to the Entrance Hall; his inked footsteps seemed a bit erratic, as if he were having trouble walking.

Suddenly the doors crashed inwards, one flying completely off its hinges. It sailed over the heads of the assemblage and crashed into the wall above the younger years where Professor Sinestra, the Astronomy professor stuck it to the wall with a well aimed sticking charm. Meanwhile, the troll had shuffled into the room and spied the masses of people.

It roared mightily, swinging its club over its head before slamming it into the marbled floor, leaving a large dent. Hagrid, the Grounds Keeper, jumped to the side and leapt at the troll at an angle, wrapping his great arms about the trolls' meaty neck. Hagrid was stronger than the troll, but the half giant was a good three inches shorter than the twelve-foot tall troll, not that it made much difference. The troll spun, flinging Hagrid in an arc, causing the teachers nearby to back up. They pushed the students further back and erected shields surrounding the spectators as the troll swung backwards with its club, smashing Hagrid across the back. Hagrid released his death grip on its neck and dropped to the floor, kicking out its feet and knocking it down also.

The crash was like the clanging of the gates of heaven, dust floating down from the rafters as the titans wrestled and trade punches, each trying to gain control of the massive club. The brawling pair moved so fast that none of the professors could get a shot on the troll. Finally, after what felt like hours, the troll found itself pinned to the floor, Hagrid's knees upon its chest. The troll pummelled Hagrids legs, trying to knock him off. Everyone in the Great Hall winced in unison, and a few students were sick, when a sharp crack rang out and blood ran afresh down Hagrid's left thigh. The half-giant groaned through gritted teeth as he raised the weapon high and brought it down with a sickening crunch.

He stood shakily on his good leg and leaned against the remaining door to the great hall, using the trolls club as a crutch as Snape finally appeared in the Entrance Hall, ashen faced and dragging a badly broken and bleeding leg at an almost run. How the man had managed through the pain he had to have been in was a mystery to those in the Hall. Madam Pomphry, who had been tending to Hagrid as best she could, hurried quickly over to Snape and set his leg with a wave of her wand. The added pain proved too much for the head of Slytherin House, who slumped to the floor unconscious. Waving her wand again she levitated him into the Great Hall and onto the Slytherin table, where an attentive seventh year banished the tableware and transfigured a pillow and sheet for the injured Potions Master.

Hagrid, meanwhile, had stretched out on the Hufflepuff table with his own massive transfigured pillow and tent of a sheet, and was slowly removing his moleskin coat and the shirt beneath, leaving them on the table beneath him. It was immediately obvious when the shirt came off that many of his ribs were broken, a few protruding from his darkly tanned skin, his snapped femur could be seen projecting from a rip in his darkly stained trousers. The shield spells were removed and the students moved forward to the tables, a few sitting, most standing, all still in shock. Several had thrown up during the fight and a fair few had fainted; including, apparently, Professor Quirrell again. Harry and his friends had been near the back corner where the door had hit. Padma had been one of those who had fainted, right at the beginning, when the door nearly fell on them, before Sinestra had stuck it to the wall. They had placed her under the High Table, hoping it would keep her safe if things could have possibly gotten anymore pear shaped.

Madam Pomphry had given the troll's head wound a superficial examination and pronounced the creature dead before Professors Sprout, and Vector levitated the trolls' body out of the front doors and onto the grounds. Just as they were passing it out the doors Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Flitwick returned from the dungeons. Madam Pomphry spied them immediately and rounded on them, "Just where the bloody hell were you three? I've got the entire student population in shock, a Potions Professor with a shattered left leg, and a Game Keeper with thirteen broke ribs and a compound fracture to his femur. We could hear that thing tromping down the stairs from the first floor! There's no telling where it came from and what it destroyed on the way here!"

Professor Dumbledore was staring at the body floating out the front doors, following the drip of blood from its head to the trail of it leading to the Great Hall. He looked with wide eyes at the massed students, many of them shaking and crying. He looked to the pale forms lying on the two house tables, and the many unconscious students scattered about the floor, some had their heads pillowed in friends' laps, while others had been supplied with transfigured pillows. In the back of the Hall, Professor Sinestra was removing the Hall door from the wall and levitating it back to the doorway to be repaired and replaced. He turned and looked at Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, both of whom had sat down, looking faint. McGonagall had tears in her eyes and Flitwick was shaking like a leaf. Professor Dumbledore turned back to Madam Pomphry and shook his head, "We didn't hear it, we were in the lower dungeons, I am so sorry." He looked around at the traumatized students, "Everyone, I am so sorry."


	11. 11 Quick Quotes and Quidditich

Harry Potter and the Spirits Within

Chapter 11: Quick Quotes and Quidditch

Summary: The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son.

Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own (or live in, magic rocks) the 'Potterverse' … I do not.

The front page of the wizarding newspaper, the Daily Prophet, were emblazoned with headlines that made many the witch and wizard at home shower their papers with their mouthfuls of morning tea.

**Rubeus Hagrid: Hero of Hogwarts**

**Courageous Keeper of Keys Trounces Troll to Save Students**

**By Rita Skeeter**

**Terror unfolded last night at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry when Professor Quirinus Quirrell dashed into the Great Hall during the Hallow'een Feast proclaiming there was a troll in the dungeons of the school before fainting dead away. Acting immediately, Headmaster Dumbledore ordered the prefects to lead their houses to their respective common rooms. However, no sooner had the students stood to leave than a voice rang out proclaiming the order to be 'a terrible idea'. Who, do you ask, had the audacity to question the venerable Headmaster? It was none other than our own boy hero and defeater of You-Know-Who, Harry Potter. When asked by the Headmaster why Mr. Potter thought the safety of the students was a bad idea, Mr. Potter replied, 'Because, sir, Professor Quirrell just said the troll was in the dungeons, and two of the Houses are in that direction.' To which the Headmaster agreed. He then told the students and staff to stay in the Hall while he and Professors Fillius Flitwick, Minerva McGonagall, and Severus Snape all left the hall and journeyed to the dungeons to find the troll.**

**Unfortunately, dear readers, the troll was not in the dungeons. It appears that it was on the upper floors, wreaking havoc amongst the paintings and suits of armour, no paintings or suits were permanently damaged. Our sources tell us that a group of students near the door to the great hall suddenly bolted to the high table shouting that the troll was right outside the door. No sooner had the remaining professors secured the students behind themselves than the doors were bashed open, one of them sailing right over the heads of the students to be stuck to the wall by Professor Sinestra, The teacher of Astronomy. While Game Keeper Rubeus Hagrid leapt onto the troll and began wrestling for control of the trolls' club. After suffering numerous injuries, Hagrid, as he prefers to be called, overpowered the troll and succeeded in killing it.**

**In a surprising twist, Potions Professor Severus Snape returned without the other professors and sporting a badly broken leg, he succumbed to unconsciousness when Madam Pomphry, the school healer, set his broken leg. We learned it was a full five minutes **_**after**_** the arrival of the injured potions master that the remaining professors arrived in fact, completely oblivious to the danger in the great hall. Madam Pomphry was quick to deliver a dressing down to our dear Headmaster and the other professors. Our sources were able to relay her words for us, 'Just where ... were you three? I've got the entire student population in shock, a Potions Professor with a shattered leg, and a Game Keeper with thirteen broke ribs and a compound fracture to his femur. We could hear that thing tromping down the stairs from the first floor! There's no telling where it came from and what it destroyed on the way here!' The only response Headmaster Dumbledore gave was, 'I'm sorry.'**

**How did the troll get in? Why was it not where Professor Quirrell claimed it to be? How did Professor Snape receive his injuries? Why did it take so long to search the dungeons?**

**While both Hagrid and Professor Snape were unable to comment, we were able to get a word from Harry Potter about the incident, 'We (the students) haven't a clue how the thing got in here. Lucky we had Hagrid with us, **_**he's**_** a true hero. He actually protected and saved us; he didn't just survive when no one else did.' With this amazing revelation about how the Boy-Who-Lived feels about his own fame, one can only wonder what really classifies as 'a true hero'.**

The article in the Prophet was all anyone could talk about for weeks following the events of Hallow'een. The questions presented by Rita Skeeter were especially on the minds of Harry, his group of friends, and his parents. While Professor Snape had been released, though he had to walk with a cane for a while, Hagrid was still in the hospital wing. His injuries needed to heal on their own, the muggle way. According to Lily and James, Hagrid was half-giant, which meant that most potions and spells designed for full humans wouldn't work on him, something he shared with Remus Lupin. James recounted the tale of when the marauders had discovered Hagrids heritage.

"It was in our fourth year." He began, reclining in the library within Harry's mindscape, "Remember how we told you that the Whomping Willow was planted in our first year for Moony to use? Well, people used to play a game, trying to get near enough to touch the trunk. A boy named Davey Gudgeon was the closest to ever get, without freezing the tree of course, but he almost lost an eye. The tree nailed him right in the face, dropped him like a stone. Problem was; he was about seven feet into the danger zone of the tree, so no one could go get him. Hagrid was watching from his hut and came running over when he saw Davey drop. He waded into the swinging branches like they weren't there, picked up Davey, and walked out. The whole time the tree is beating its branches on him. He ended up with a broken arm and something like five bruised ribs, which had to heal naturally. When we, specifically Remus, asked him why he couldn't be healed, he told him. I don't recon he would have told if it was anyone other than Remus. The fact that it was the night after the full moon probably helped, reminded him that he wasn't the only person who would be feared for what they were, should it get out."

Harry could understand that and decided to visit Hagrid the next chance he got.

~*o o*~

Following in the wake of the rumours the article started came a buzz of excitement felt by students and staff alike, the Quidditch Season was here. Harry, who hadn't yet seen a Quidditch game, was eagerly anticipating the first match. James had been a chaser on the house team in his day and had thoroughly explained the rules to Harry; he had even gone so far as to recreate all the Quidditch books he knew in Harry's mental library. The flying lesson Harry had had earlier in the year had been exhilarating. Paired with the Ravenclaws, he had been next to Hermione when they had kicked off and risen into the air for the first time. The complete sense of freedom and completeness was wonderful and his dad's voice crowing in his head only added to the elation. Harry couldn't wait until he could try out for the team the following year. The first match of the season was Gryffindor against Slytherin, and there was a bit of good-natured ribbing going on between Draco and Blaise and Neville and the other Gryffs in their group. As a show of fairness, Harry and the other Hufflepuffs decided to root for Slytherin and sit with Draco and Blaise, while Hermione, Susan, and Padma sat with Padma's twin, Parvarti, in Gryffindor.

The chilly November winds sliced through the grounds and the Hogwarts Coalition, as they had taken to calling themselves, were singing Hermione's praises. She had taught everyone a charm to put bluebell flames in a jar and carry them around. The group had each earned a handful of points from Professor Flitwick when they all did the spell at the end of Charms, to take down to the pitch with them. Harry had borrowed one of Draco's Slytherin scarves and it complemented his yellow Hufflepuff tie nicely. As they reached the Slytherin stands they passed an agitated Professor Snape limping laboriously past to the teachers stand. As soon as he spotted Harry his glower deepened, "Potter, what are you doing in the Slytherin stands?" his gaze swept over to Ernie and Justin, "You as well, Hufflepuffs." He said with distain.

Ernie looked indignant, "There is no rule saying that students can't sit wherever they please. We're here to show support for the Slytherins while our Ravenclaw friends are sitting with the Gryffindors."

Snape's visage darkened and his eyes dropped to their hands, each clutching a jar of their bluebell flames, "Magic is not allowed outside the class rooms. That will be five points each..."

Draco interrupted him, "We didn't do the spell outside of our class. Professor Flitwick watched us make them after Charms, and he told us that we could take them to the pitch."

Snape looked over to Draco, noticing for the first time that he and Blaise were there, and holding flame jars of their own. Practically snarling now, Snape turned back to face Harry, "What's the matter Potter, to pathetic to speak for yourself, the colour of your house bleeding into your hide? What would your arrogant father think of his spineless offspring?"

The only outward sign Harry gave of his reaction to this attack was a small frown, though his friends were scowling darkly and his parents were muttering angrily in his head, "Professor, I hadn't felt the need to speak, as my friends were answering your accusations perfectly well on their own. However, to address your points, we, the Hufflepuffs, were invited to the Slytherin stands to watch the match by Draco and Blaise. Draco even loaned me one of his scarves so I could show proper support for his house, your house." He held up an end of the scarf in example. "We were told by a professor that we were not in violation of the school rules by performing a spell in a classroom and then taking the results of the spell out of that room. Finally, how my father may or may not have felt about my silence and the colour of my tie," he dropped the scarf and raised his hand to touch his tie, "is, unfortunately, something I will never know. In case you hadn't remembered, he and my mother died ten years ago, the anniversary of their death was just a few days ago, on Hallow'een." Harry's expression hardened, "While I'm amazed you still harbour some childish grudge against a person who's been dead for a decade, you should remember that I am _not_ my father. I would think my _eyes_," Harry's emerald green eyes locked with Snape's own onyx orbs, "should be a _dead_ giveaway. I don't know what my father would have thought, and I have to wonder what my mother would have thought, too."

Snape had been getting more and more incensed as Harry contradicted each comment he had made, but the moment he had mentioned his eyes all the colour had drained from Snape's face. He physically winced when Harry mentioned what Lily would think, and Harry knew that Snape had gotten his hidden meaning. Lily was very disappointed in Severus' actions and had partially coached Harry through what to say about them. The group of friends continued up to the stands, leaving Professor Snape to his thoughts.

~*o o*~

The game started shortly thereafter, and was an amazing event, even if Gryffindor's new seeker was not terribly good. Harry had spotted the snitch quite a few times and James had cheered at each sighting, saying that Harry was a natural-born seeker. It was partway through the game when something peculiar started happening to the players, of both teams. Alicia Spinnet, a Gryffindor Chaser, was flying above the Slytherin stands when her broom dropped out from under her for a moment, causing Harry and several others to duck or be landed upon. Ten minutes later Terrance Higgs, the Slytherin Seeker, shot like a javelin toward the same stands before he was able to wrench the handle of his broom upwards and avoid a collision. Another fifteen minutes had passed when Kenneth Towler, Gryffindor's Seeker, finally caught the snitch, and Marcus Flint, Slytherin Chaser and Captain, came rocketing towards the stands at top speed, terror etched onto his face. He was only prevented from flipping over the back of his broom by the one handed, white knuckled grip he had on his broomstick. Harry saw him coming only a moment before he was already upon them, and shoved his arms out to his sides, pushing Draco on one side and Justin on the other, completely out of harm's way. Tine seemed to slow for Harry as; with his parents shrieking in his head, his friends shrieking in his ears, and Marcus shrieking as his grip finally failed, Harry's magic reached out and wrapped around Marcus and the runaway broom. Magic is a wondrous thing, but even it can't work miracles. Harry's magic was able to slow Marcus' fall, but not stop him entirely. Likewise, the bewitched broom, propelled by powerful dark magic, could not be stopped completely; only pushed, and even then, not very far, the force of dark magic controlling the broom would not be denied. Harry, being a truly selfless person, would not allow the broom to be diverted into the stands and hurt someone else. So his magic adjusted the angle of the broom to cause the least damage. He felt an odd sort of push, a feeling of immense pressure, and then a strange detachment from his surroundings. There was complete, and absolute silence in the stadium as Marcus Flint floated gently to the grass of the pitch. Then Harry heard Hermione scream.

Her scream seemed to sharpen his senses, heighten his awareness, and he looked down at the pressure he was feeling. Marcus' broom had impaled him just below his sternum. From the small amount of the shaft he could see protruding between his chest and the bristles, the broom had gone completely through him. Harry blinked owlishly at the broom, uncomprehending, for a second or two before he fully registered what he was seeing, and then the pain started. Immense, soul deep pain, like he'd never felt before. He could hear his mothers weeping filling his ears as he drew in a slow, aching breath, and released a piteous moan, before his eyes rolled up into the back of his head.

His friends on either side of him reacted without thinking. Grabbing a hold of Harry at shoulder and hip, they held him in the same position, preventing the broom from jostling and creating further damage. The staff in the teachers stands were at a loss, no one could think of how to get Harry down, as he obviously couldn't be taken down the stairs, he couldn't be moved from his current position without risking more damage. Suddenly, Fred and George Weasley flew over to the stands and one of them pulled out their wand. The Hogwarts Coalition had taken to carrying their wands everywhere with them, wary of a repeat of Hallow'een; those in the stands simply hadn't the time to draw theirs. Fred, for it was he who had taken out his wand, pointed it shakily at Harry and his support.

"Wingardium Leviosa."

The trio rose smoothly into the air and Fred and George flew to either side, grabbing a hold of Draco and Justin, and guiding them slowly across the grounds, fifteen metres high, heading straight for the windows of the Hospital Wing. Angelina Johnson, a Gryffindor Chaser, flew ahead of them and removed the windows, so they were able to fly in easily, and avoid jarring Harry. Hagrid, still confined to a bed while he healed, stared agog at the happenings across the aisle from him.

"'Ow in Merlin's beard did 'Arry ge' a broom in 'im?"

No one answered him; no one had an answer to give.

Oliver Wood flew through the glassless window, Madame Pomphry seated on his broom behind him. She clambered off and reached the bed as the Weasley twins ever so carefully lowered the trio onto it. Fred didn't cancel his spell until they were completely seated, and a slight sagging of Draco and Justin's shoulders was the only evidence of its release. Madam Pomphry carefully aimed her wand and, after telling Draco and Justin to hold Harry as still as possible, she severed the base of the broom from its handle. The loss of additional forward weight nearly caused them to fall back onto the bed, but the boys were able to hold Harry steady and turn the motion into a gentle sway back and forwards. Pomphry then went behind them to the other side of the bed and removed the sixteen inches of handle protruding from Harry's back. All that was now left was the bit still inside him, and Pomphry was able to get a complete diagnostic scan, which the magic of the broom in its entirety would have interfered with.

"Oh my, I can't believe it!" Madame Pomphry exclaimed.

"What? What is it? Will he be alright?" Justin asked, worry dripping in his tone.

"The broom missed absolutely everything!" She replied, amazed.

"What do you mean it missed everything?" George started.

"It's gone right through him!" Fred finished, a bit of panic in his voice.

"His organs, Messrs Weasley, it missed his organs. It went right through the cavity below his heart and above his liver, to the right of his oesophagus and to the left of his spine. This was actually the best possible location for it to hit him. It completely avoided anything vital."

"What about his lungs?" Draco asked shakily, his carefully controlled composure shattered in the wake of such a terrifying ordeal.

Madame Pomphry smiled reassuringly, "Those too, Mr. Malfoy. The lungs are to either side of the chest cavity, the broom went right between them. Now, I just have to remove the remaining wood inside him and heal the entry and exit wounds."

She proceeded to do just that and soon Harry was lying back on his Hospital bed with a pressure bandage wound round his chest. The rest of the Hogwarts Coalition had since arrived, Hermione and the other girls in near catatonic states of shock, and all were drinking Calming Draughts. Marcus Flint had come also, he sat beside Harry's bed, ashen faced and as shaky as an old man, even after his Calming Draught. Each of the Heads of House passed through briefly, as well as the Headmaster, giving words of encouragement and taking their leave. Severus Snape in particular was astounded at the bravery he had witnessed; saving his friends and a boy he hardly knew in favour of saving himself was not a concept he could easily understand. His entire attitude towards Harry Potter had changed in those brief seconds and he knew he would never again see the man he hated in place of the boy before him.

**A/N: Well that seemed a good stopping point. I looked up a diagram of human organs and found that nifty little spot that was able to keep Harry as uninjured (while being impaled on a broom) as possible, if you're curious just Google 'diagram of human organs' and switch to Google Images or go to this site ~http:~/~free-anatomy.~anatomyandphysiologyss.~com/~organs-of-human/ ~ (take out each squiggly of course) and look at the third picture down, the gap is pretty easy to spot, below the heart and above the diaphram. Hope you enjoyed the different way Harry was attacked at his first school Quidditch game.**


	12. 12 Dialogue and Discovery

Harry Potter and the Spirits Within

Chapter 12: Dialogue and Discovery

Summary: The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son.

Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own (or live in, magic rocks) the 'Potterverse' … I do not.

Harry awoke in the dim hospital wing feeling as though he had a dragon sitting on his chest. For a moment he was confused, unsure of how he had ended up here, then everything came rushing back; the Quidditch match, the Slytherin chaser, and the broomstick. Harry knew instinctively not to try to sit up, the terrible ache he felt did not need to be increased, thank you. He slowly lifted his arm, though even that small movement caused the pain to escalate and Harry to wince and bite his lower lip to keep from crying out. Moving ever so slowly, he grasped a pinch of the coverlet over his sore chest and slid it down. He wasn't wearing a shirt and the sight of the dressing across his torso made his eyes widen in shock. Resisting the bizarre urge to prod the centre of the bandage, he replaced the blanket and lowered his arm, taking care to move gently and smoothly. Casting a glance around the room, Harry saw the blurry, yet unmistakable mass of Hagrid in a bed across from him; he assumed there was a silencing spell on Hagrid because he knew the half-giant snored loud enough to wake half the castle. He couldn't see a Madame Pomphry shaped blob anywhere and assumed she was in her office. Sinking into his mindscape he looked around for his parents, not seeing them in the garden he made his way into his childhood home and discovered them in the kitchen. Lily was sat at the table, her head in her hands and a full but cold cup of tea in front of her. James was leaning against the counter; both hands splayed on the marble, arms stiff, and head down, his shoulder blades creating prominent ridges. Harry stepped into the room and cleared his throat. Lily's head shot up and James whirled around.

"Harry!"

Harry had no more than blinked when he was engulfed in his parents' arms, grateful that his physical injuries didn't translate into his representation in his mindscape.

"M'ok mum, dad," He mumbled into his father's shoulder, "S'all right."

"Harry, you almost died!" his mother wept, "Your mindscape went black! We were lost for a long while, just floating in a sea of nothingness." His mother always seemed to wax poetic when she was stressed or scared, he guessed she was a bit ... ok a lot ... of both right now.

Harry took a deep breath and sat at the table, his parents joining him.

"When the house came back, we were in the kitchen, we haven't really moved much." James said his voice shaky.

"That was about five hours ago," Lily continued, "But the outside view is still black, it didn't even show your dreams."

Harry bit his lip and sat back, "How long have I been out?"

"We're not sure, son." James admitted, "There was no sense of time in the blackness. It seemed to last years, decades, even."

"Well," Harry sighed, "I woke up before I came here, I can find out soon."

He ran his hands through his hair, unconsciously mimicking his father's mannerisms. "I want to stay here for a bit though."

James and Lily nodded and each took one of his hands, reminding themselves that he was alright.

~*o o*~

The next time Harry opened his eyes it was daylight and Hagrid was sitting up, reading a magazine judging by the rustle of paper and colourful blob at his midsection. Harry really wished he could reach his glasses, but knew that stretching for the side table would increase his pain a hundred fold, given the pain of moving the blanket last night. He braced himself and tried to take a slow deep breath. His lungs only filled about a third full before the pain started up.

Tentatively, he attempted a small noise, barely above a whisper; no pain yet. He tried a louder noise, nothing more than a groan, but the pain created was quite bad and he quickly stopped. However, this was loud enough that Hagrid heard him. The large man looked up in shock and tossed his magazine and blankets aside, swung his legs out of bed, and grabbed a hold of a walking stick the size of a railroad tie. Hagrid made his way to Harry's bedside at a quick limp, though with his size he still got there rather fast.

"'Arry, 'ow are ye feelin'?" He asked with compassion and worry laced through his voice.

Harry tried to speak but was only able to manage short words and half sentences, "I'm ... hurtin' ... Hagrid. ... Where's ... Pom ... phry?"

Hagrid's eyes watered up at Harry's obvious pain and turned to face Madame Pomphry's office.

"Poppy, 'Arry's awake!" he called at a low bellow.

The Medi-witch bustled out of her office and all but ran to Harry's bedside, Hagrid quickly moving to the foot of the bed and out of the way.

"Well Mr. Potter, I'd say you've given the entire castle quite a scare. How bad is the pain, do you thing?"

"Breathing ... is hard. ... Chest feels ... tight and ... achy. ... Need my ... glasses ... too."

Madame Pomphry nodded and smiled slightly at the last bit and gently placed the lenses on his face, bringing the room into sharper focus.

Harry blinked up at her and Hagrid, "How you ... feelin' ... Hagrid? ... How long ... have I ... been out?"

Hagrid beamed down at the little wizard, "Aww now, don' ye be worryin' abou' me none, 'Arry. I'll be righ' as rain soon enough. Ye've been asleep fer two weeks."

Madame Pomphry then placed a vial of potion to Harry's lips, "This is a pain reliever, the next one will reduce swelling, and the one after that is for infection. I expect you don't remember much of what happened?"

Harry swallowed the first vile vial and shook his head, his face squidging up at the terrible taste.

"Someone was tampering with the players brooms, I'm told there were other near misses before the final one?" she asked as Harry forced down the second potion, it seemed that all doctors, magical or muggle, wanted to ask you questions right at the moment you were unable to answer. Harry nodded, vaguely remembering the dive-bombing brooms.

"Well the last broom, ridden my Mr. Marcus Flint of Slytherin, shot straight at you head on. Mr. Flint fell off the back of it and apparently you had one of the most amazing feats of accidental magic I've ever heard of. Second to a four year old who apparated her mother, father, and sister out of their burning house." She placed the last vial to Harry's lips and noted his confused expression, "You don't remember what you did? Well, from what I gathered from your friends and the professors that were at the match, your magic reached out and caught Mr. Flint, arresting his fall until he reached the ground. His broom however, went through you. I can only assume that your magic did what it could to control where the broom struck Mr. Potter, it missed everything."

Harry's eyes had gone wide at the mention of the impalement, then clouded with confusion again, "What ... do you ... mean ... it missed ... everything?"

The Medi-witch smiled slightly at the almost exact same question Mr. Weasley had asked being repeated, "Your organs, Mr. Potter, it missed your organs. It went right through the cavity below your heart and above your liver, to the right of your oesophagus and to the left of your spine. It also missed your aorta and inferior vena cava, the arteries connected to your heart." She explained in response to his quirked eyebrow, "This was actually the best possible location for it to hit you. It completely avoided anything vital." She all but recited the same thing she had told Mr. Weasley, each of the heads of house, and the Headmaster. "Once the entry and exit wounds are fully healed you'll be perfectly fine, in about a month as long as you don't tax yourself." She finished, anticipating his question.

Harry grimaced, nodded, and closed his eyes; already exhausted again.

~*o o*~

A few days later brought the first of December and Harry and Hagrid were in a deep discussion on exotic magical animals, Harry's parents listening in fascination in his mindscape. Harry would pluck an animal out of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Hermione had brought his school books the day he had awoken, and Hagrid would expound on that animal with more detail than the book ever had. This worked well for the both of them as Harry still couldn't speak for very long before tiring and Hagrid loved to share his adoration of 'in'erestin' creatures'. Harry was both terrified and fascinated to learn that Hagrid had introduced a population of Acromantulas to the Forbidden Forest, as well as the colony of Centaurs that lived there, and the only domestic herd of Thestrals, which the book didn't even mention. Hagrid told Harry for hours about the skeletal horses, how he had started the herd with a male and five females, how his favourite one was a male called Tenebrus who was the first born in the Forest, and how they could only be seen if that person had seen death; which had Harry asking if the whole school would be able to see them after seeing Hagrid kill the troll (Hagrid wasn't sure if it had to be the death of someone of their own species). The talk of the Thestrals prompted Harry to ask if Hagrid knew of any other creatures the book had left out.

"Oh yeah, I jus' recen'ly go' a hold o' a Cerberus!" Hagrid exclaimed.

Harry wrinkled his forehead, "I think I read something about that in Mythology ... didn't one of those guard the dead or something?"

"Sor' of, in Mythology a Cerberus was the guardian o' the underworld." Hagrid explained.

"But what is it; I don't remember that part, I just remember the name." Harry asked, slightly frustrated.

Hagrid smiled, "A Cerberus is a giant three headed dog. Rangin' abou' seven'een meters high, thir'y-two thousan' stone, an' thir'y-seven meters long from 'is noses to 'is tail."

Harry goggled, "And you _own_ one of these? Where do you keep it?"

"Aye, tho' Fluffy's not yet fully grown, he's on'y abou' ten meters jus' now. He's 'ere in the castle." Hagrid said proudly.

"He's _here_, where?" Harry asked, astounded.

"Oh, he's up on the third floor guardin' the ... I should'ta said tha'." Hagrid stammered.

"Is that why Professor Dumbledore said to avoid that corridor if you didn't want to die?" Harry asked after the groans from his parents quieted enough for him to think.

Hagrid rubbed the back of his head, "Well, yeah ... but tha' ain't nothin' to concern yerself with, tha's between Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel ..." Hagrid suddenly looked furious with himself.

"Flamel is an Alchemist; the Cerberus must be guarding his Philosophers stone." Lily said in amazement, an amazement echoed by the Potter men.

~*o o*~

A week later saw Hagrid well enough to leave the Hospital Wing, and Harry was finally able to have some one on one time with Madame Pomphry. He had wanted to talk with her about his parents will and why their wishes hadn't been carried out.

She came out of her office for his daily check-up and he seized his chance, "Madame Pomphry ... er, do you know anything about my parents will?"

The Medi-Witch looked at him curiously, "No, should I?" She asked, performing her scans on his torso.

Harry felt oddly conflicted, he now knew she hadn't abandoned him, but he and the elder Potters still didn't know if she had just never claimed him, or if her mind had been tampered with, for they had told her themselves.

"Well, you see, the goblins showed me their will before I came to school. And, well, you were supposed to have custody of me."

Madame Pomphry's eyes widened in shock, she stared at him for a full minute before she started shaking and dropped her wand. Harry wanted to help her; to hold onto her until she stopped shaking, but he still couldn't move; he could barely sit up.

She raised her hands to her eyes and let out a small sob, before she collapsed into the chair beside his bed. For ten whole minutes Harry lay there, helpless, as the poor Medi-Witch sobbed her heart out, before she finally calmed down enough to speak.

"Oh, Harry dear, I'm so sorry! Albus put a block on my memories! When you told me ... when you said ... I was able to break through it. I had always thought there was something I was forgetting, something niggling at the back of my mind. My magic was fighting the block but I couldn't push through it, until now. When your parents ... that night ... it was a full day later that you were left with your relatives, Albus brought you here to me first with Hagrid. Then he blocked our memories and went to the Dursleys with Hagrid following after."

She took a deep breath, "You were hungry, and you had that horrible cut, but you seemed otherwise unharmed. Then I ran a diagnostic, there is such a massive concentration of dark magic around your scar that there is only one thing to account for it, and when we discovered it, Albus was ... I've never seen him like that. He had this look on his face; like you were suddenly made of solid gold and he wanted you for himself. I didn't like that look and I told him that I wanted to claim my right as one of the chosen guardians, we all knew that Sirius Black was the secret keeper, and that he had betrayed the Potters."

"He wasn't." Harry interrupted.

"Pardon me?" She asked, shocked.

"The goblins told me that my parents had switched secret keepers, they switched to Peter Pettigrew." Harry explained.

Madame Pomphry gasped and placed a hand over her heart, "They switched ... but Albus performed the spell! He had to know about it!"

Harry goggled at her, this was not something the goblins had mentioned, they possibly hadn't known.

The two of them sat in silence for a few moments, lost in thought. "Well, I think we should keep this under our hats until we are better able to do something about it." Madame Pomphry said, standing up and retrieving her wand from the floor where it had landed. "Albus has a lot of power and a lot of people believe him infallible. I was one of them! We need to be cautious with how we handle this or we'll both find ourselves missing some memories."

After receiving Harry's nod of agreement she bent down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, on the other side from his scar, and moved off to her office while Harry dropped into his mindscape for an important discussion with his parents.


	13. 13 Surprises Abound

Harry Potter and the Spirits Within

Chapter 13: Surprises Abound

Summary: The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son.

Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own (or live in, magic rocks) the 'Potterverse' … I do not.

Harry and Poppy, as she insisted he call her, had many whispered conversations over the course of Harry's remaining days in the hospital wing. While the Potters' respect for the aged Headmaster had dropped to an all new low, the incensed Medi-Witch had been beside herself for days. She routinely had to be dissuaded, by an increasingly unwilling Harry, to not run off to his office and curse the deserving old goat into the next great adventure. As a qualified Healer, Poppy knew all too well the possible side effects of a large scale memory charm, and she knew she had been suffering the milder ones already. Over time, if Harry hadn't helped her break the block, her magic would have rebelled against the foreign magic and could have caused her permanent brain damage, on par with a complete obliviation. When Harry heard this he was ready to shoot a few choice curses and jinxes at the venerable old coot as well, and his parents and Poppy were hard pressed to keep him in bed and prevent him from reinjuring himself. Harry and Poppy had grown very close over the last two weeks before Christmas and Harry's release, and Harry was very protective of those he cared about.

Due to his injuries Harry was unable to do any Christmas shopping, so Poppy had brought him several owl-order catalogues to leaf through. He had managed to find promising gifts for each of his friends in the Hogwarts Coalition as well as Madame Pomphry and Remus Lupin, who had contacted him through owl during his convalescence. It transpired that the werewolf had been in the muggle world, working in a call centre; something that hid the scars from his condition from the curious public and allowed him the full moons off. The pay was not great, but it was the best he could do. Remus had heard of Harry's injury, and had written that he would be visiting as soon as he could. Sure enough, two days before Harry was due to be released, Remus walked slowly into the virtually empty hospital wing. Finding Harry laying flat on his back, as he had for his entire stay, with a magazine floating two feet above his face, Remus sat in the available chair and cleared his throat.

After raising his wand and moving the magazine to the bedside table, Harry turned his head to face his visitor and his eyes widened before a huge grin split his face. Since the organization of his mind Harry had been able to recall some of the events of his first year of life, including time spent with his 'Unca Mooey'. The joy he felt at seeing the old Marauder again was nothing, however, to the burgeoning elation that was his fathers' reaction to finally seeing one of his best friends. Before Remus could do more than blink at Harry's reaction to him, Harry had raised an arm up to place it on the werewolf's shoulder.

"Uncle Moony, it is so good to see you again!" Harry exclaimed.

Remus was so taken aback by this that he actually started to silently weep, though he didn't take his eyes off Harry.

Harry himself was shocked at Remus' reaction and asked, "Moony, what's wrong?"

"I never thought I'd hear you call me that again. I was so sure that you would hate me because I couldn't take you. I tried, I tried for months, but they said I was unfit to raise a child because ..." He stopped there, afraid to say too much, not knowing the information Harry was privy to. He was in for a greater shock.

"Because of your furry little problem?" Harry asked.

The colour drained from Remus' face and his eyes widened in shock, "How did you know about that?"

"The same way I knew your my Uncle Moony, I remember my childhood, before ... everything happened." Harry explained, "I believe it's a side effect of that night, but I have perfect recall, and I'm apparently a 'natural' Occlumense." Harry again made air quotes, as was his habit.

Remus felt he should just get used to being shocked, "That ... that is a surprisingly good side effect, and a very useful one." The aging Marauder visibly shook himself and glanced at Harry's chest before looking back into his eyes. "How are you healing, I heard what you did and I have to say you would have done your parents proud," he chuckled, "though your dad probably would have given you a bit of grief for saving a Slytherin, and your mum would have done the same for scaring the daylights out of her."

Harry laughed outright, as that was exactly what his parents _had_ done, after they had calmed down a bit and realized he was going to be alright. "I'm alright; I'm getting out in two days. How are you doing, with the full moons and everything?"

"I'm alright," Remus replied, mimicking Harry. Apparently something he used to do to James when he would downplay his injuries. "The moons are hard but they've been worse."

Harry was about to ask where he went to keep safe, when Poppy bustled in with three lunch trays floating behind her. Remus conjured a small table, a second chair, and a tray for Harry and Poppy smiled at him in thanks before setting the trays on the various surfaces. They enjoyed a companionable meal, Harry's food floating off the plate and into his mouth, he still couldn't move his torso much and sitting up straight was a strain they wanted to delay as long as possible to give him adequate time to heal properly.

Once the food was eaten Poppy levitated the trays back out and left the two alone to catch up, and Harry asked his question.

Remus actually chuckled, "I found an abandoned house on the outskirts of London. It's not fit to live in, but it has an old air-raid shelter. I shut the doors and can't open them as Moony."

Harry and his parents were impressed with Remus' ingenuity, but wished he could have a better life, something James had been wishing since finding out about his 'furry little problem'.

"So where do you live then?" Harry asked. He knew he wouldn't be able to live with the werewolf, not until his majority anyway, but he would definitely want to see the honorary uncle again.

"I rent a small room from a squib in London. She doesn't mind my problem as long as I'm nowhere near her when I turn." Remus replied.

"That's nicer than most people would be, I guess. Have you heard about this new potion?" Harry picked up his wand again; he kept it on the bed beside his thigh for easy casting, and levitated the magazine, a Potions Quarterly, over his face again. Reaching up to it, he turned the pages back until he came to the article he was looking for. "Wolfsbane?" he asked Remus, floating the magazine to his hands.

Remus nodded, looking at the article, "Yes but I haven't been able to buy any. It is, unfortunately, far out of my price range."

Harry, and the Potters, was saddened at that. When they had read the article they had hoped that Remus could get a hold of some. Then Harry got a mischievous glint in his eye, forcibly reminding Remus of James. "Well Christmas is coming, Uncle Moony." He began.

"Harry, as much as I would love to have that potion, one moons' worth will be more of a torture than a help, knowing I can't have more. That's why I didn't save up for any."

Harry scoffed, "What are you talking about 'one moons' worth'? I mean to get you a lifetime supply!"

Remus' jaw dropped, "Harry, that's too much!" he insisted.

Harry waived him off, "Uncle Moony, I have all this inheritance sitting in my vaults, doing nothing but increasing. If I'm not able to spend it on a good cause and a good man, then what's the point in having it?"

Before Remus could formulate a rebuttal, the hospital wing doors banged open and the Weasley twins ran in. The Potters and Remus could tell immediately that something was wrong. The twins were both shaking and white-faced; one had an old parchment that Harry recognized as the Marauders Map clutched in his hand, the other had his hand securely clamped around a limp brown rat.


	14. 14 Revenge on a Rodent

Harry Potter and the Spirits Within

Chapter 14: Revenge on a Rodent

**A/N: Sorry for the delay, my hard drive on my laptop desided to shrivel up and die, lost everything. So future chapters are going to be on a kind of 'wing it' policy. On a happier note I have opened an Etsy shop selling handmade earrings done by yours truly. Please take some time to visit the shop, it would mean alot to me. the link is on my profile.**

_Summary: The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son._

_Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own (or live in, magic rocks) the 'Potterverse' … I do not._

Remus Lupin actually managed to pull off what can only be referred to as a reverse double double-take, looking first to the rat, then to the twin holding the map, then back to the rat, then to the map, then to the twin holding the rat, then back to the map; all with a gob smacked expression on his face. The twins noticed none of this, though if they had it would have been of great use later on as pranking material, their entire focus was on the white faced boy on the hospital bed, a boy who currently had the ghosts of his parents cheering their heads off within his mind. For, while Remus was caught completely off guard, Harry and his spectral parents knew that the traitor was at large and only needed to find him, and these wonderful Weasley twins had done it for them.

"Where did you find him?" Harry finally managed to ask.

"We were looking for Ron; we wanted to invite him to a snowball fight." Fred said.

"We know he's been a git," George chimed in, "but he is still our brother."

Harry nodded in understanding, knowing more acutely than most how important and precious family is. He then motioned for the twins to come to the chairs that a semi-recovered Remus conjured.

"Can you make an unbreakable cage?" Harry asked Remus, that kind of spell work still being beyond him and the twins. Remus numbly did so, having the rat closer to him had removed any doubt as to the identity of the rodent. George, who was holding the rat, immediately dropped it into the cage, stunned it again for good measure, and closed the cage.

"Where was he?" Harry asked again.

"Well, like we said, we were looking for Ron." George began this time.

~*o o*~

Fred and George had looked through the entirety of Gryffindor Tower that their gender would allow, but still couldn't find their younger brother. Knowing he didn't know where the kitchens were, and that he'd never willingly step foot into the library had them stumped as to his whereabouts.

"Let's just check the map." Fred said.

George agreed and they tucked into a secluded corner of the Common Room to activate it. Perusing the map they quickly confirmed he wasn't in the Tower and were about to check to rest of the castle, when George grabbled the edges of the map more forcefully than he ever had and pulled it to his face.

"Freddie," George whispered, "There was no one in Ron's dorm, right?"

"Yeah, we were just up there, why? Who's in there?" Fred asked, trying to angle behind his twin to see.

"What was the name of the guy that Harry said betrayed his parents, Wormtail's real name?" he asked, his voice hoarsening.

"Peter Pettigrew, wasn't it? The one the Ministry gave that Order of Merlin to. You aren't telling me he's in Ronnie's room right now!"

George lowered the map and pointed to a name on it, "He's sitting on Ron's bed right now!"

The twins jumped up and ran up the spiral staircase, slowing to a creep as they neared the door to the first-year boys' dorm. Fred, who was in front, put a finger to his lips and raised his wand, before reaching for the doorknob and slowly opening the door with the tip of George's wand peaking over his shoulder. Fred swung the door open, fully expecting to see a man on Ron's bed, and found … nothing. Stepping further into the room the twins spotted Ron's pet rat, Scabbers, asleep on the coverlet. George looked from the map to the rat and back again. He handed the map to Fred, letting him confirm for himself that the map was saying this rat was Peter Pettigrew. Finally Fred lowered the map and raised his wand, sending a stunner at the sleeping rodent.

"What do we do now?" Fred asked. "Take him to Dumbledore?"

"No," George replied, "we'd have to give up the map. We'll take him to Harry; he's still in the Hospital Wing."

George grabbed the stunned creature and the two of them headed for the hospital wing, Fred still clutching the activated map in his hand. They were in too much shock to remember to wipe and hide it. Luckily, they met no one on the way to the Hospital Wing, though they were running by the time they reached it.

~*o o*~

As the twins finished their story Fred passed over the map to Harry who also confirmed that Peter Pettigrew was in the Hospital Wing with them. He stared at eh name for a moment before looking to Remus and handing it to him.

"Harry, what are you doing." George hissed, looking form the map to Remus and back to Harry.

Harry smiled, "Gentlemen, I'd like to introduce you to Remus Lupin, also known as Moony."

In any other setting the Weasley twins would have made a big production of meeting one of their idols. However, seeing as they had just stunned another of their idols, who was not only sleeping on their brothers' bed, but had been posing as the family pet for years, they were a little off their game. In the end they merely shook his had and told him what an honour it was to meet him.

Remus, who was still swimming in shock, finally managed to get his vocal chords working and his eyes to stop darting between the rat and the twins.

"How … but, he … I thought … but then …what?" he stumbled.

Harry chuckled, "Well, I thought I had some time to break this to you gently; as we didn't know the location of _the rat_." He started, surprising Remus with the amount of venom injected into his voice.

"I found out from the Goblins, who my parents confided in, that the secret keeper had been switched. _Peter Pettigrew,_ not Sirius Black, betrayed the whereabouts of my family and me to Voldemort." Harry knew that Remus wouldn't flinch at the name, but was impressed that the twins barely twitched.

"But there were witnesses that saw Sirius blow up the street and kill Peter." Remus countered.

"Ah, but remember back, how much of Peter did they find?" Harry replied, having done extensive research while convalescing.

"His finger …" Remus trailed off, seeing the illogic in that statement for the first time. One couldn't just obliterate all traces of a person sans finger. It wasn't even magically possible.

One of the twins perked up, "Scabbers," he gestured to the box, "Has been missing a toe on his front paw since Percy found him … ten years ago."

Harry could see when all the pieces fell together in Remus' mind. His eyes widened and his face lost what colour it had left. "Then Sirius is innocent. He's been rotting in Azkaban for ten years … and," his eyes filled with tears, "and I was wrong. How is he ever going to forgive me?"

"Let's concentrate on getting him out of there first." Harry said, his parents whispering in his head, "I have an idea."

~*o o*~

Remus threw a handful of powder into the fire in the Hospital Wing and stuck his head into the now green flames, "Headmaster's office."

Colours swirled nauseatingly, and his head spun wildly, before an office appeared, one housing not only Professor Dumbledore but Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout and Snape as well. Remus knew they were there as he had reverently consulted his old map, commenting on it, unknowingly, in much the same fashion that James had. They had spotted the Headmaster and McGonagall meeting with the other three Heads of House in the corridor and going into the Headmaster's office, presumably to have a meeting.

"Excuse me, Professors. Minerva, would you mind joining Harry, the Twins and I in the Hospital Wing for a small demonstration?" he looked to Dumbledore, "You are all welcome to came watch if you like."

"What is this demonstration?" Minerva asked, intrigued.

"Harry found a small article on Animagi. He was asking about it and I told him about the spell that transforms an Animagus back. He asked for a demonstration and you are the only one in the castle. The twins have brought their brothers pet rat to demonstrate what happens to a normal animal." Remus explained.

"In that case, I'd be delighted to help." After glancing to her fellow professors and gaining their acquiescence she turned back to the head in her fire, "We'll step through immediately."

Remus pulled back from the fireplace, stood, and removed the cushioning charm on the hearth before stepping aside. The flames flared green again before disgorging the five professors.

After the Professors had conjured chairs for themselves, Remus jumped into, what James reverently referred to as, his teacher mode.

"Now, an Animagus is a witch or wizard that can turn into a specific animal. It takes a lot of hard work to accomplish this and when the witch or wizard achieves their animal shape for the first time, they are thereafter able to do it with ease. For example …"

He gestured to Professor McGonagall, who stood from her chair and transformed into her cat form.

"Now, to reveal an Animagus that doesn't want to, or can't, turn back you perform this spell." Remus waved his wand and incanted, "Animagus Revealo." A beam of white light hit the cat and Professor McGonagall was standing before them again.

"Thank you, Minerva." Remus said, nodding to the Transfiguration Professor. She nodded back with a small smile and resumed her seat.

"Finally, should you perform this spell on an actual animal, it will do nothing, and the animal will be unharmed. Mesrs Weasley, I believe you have brought your brothers pet rat for the demonstration?"

The twins nodded and brought out the cage with the still stunned rat within. They removed the rodent from the cage and set him on the floor, before resuming their seats next to Harry's bed. Remus once again raised his wand, the picture of innocence, and repeated the spell.

As the beam of light hit the stunned rat, Harry quickly glanced at the faces of the professors, specifically Dumbledore, noting the absolute shock that marred his features when a portly man appeared where the rat had been.

Remus was ever the consummate actor and began a brilliant performance. Dropping his wand, he stumbled forward a few steps before sinking to his knees beside the newly revealed man, "P-Peter? Peter Pettigrew? But, how … I though you were dead! How is this possible?"

Now it was Harry's turn, "Wait, Peter Pettigrew? … Pettigrew … I-I remember …" Suddenly, much to Harry's surprise as anyone's, His voice deepened severely and his eyes went blank, "_Lily! Take Harry and run! It's him, Pettigrew betrayed us! Run! I'll hold him off!_" Harry's eyes cleared briefly before clouding with tears and disappearing behind his hands as he sobbed.

Within his mind Lily Potter joined her son in crying her heart out, crumpled in her chair within their viewing room. Next to her James Potter had collapsed in a dead faint, having expended an obscene amount of energy to project his voice through his sons' body.

Outwardly, things were in pandemonium. Remus, having recognized James voice immediately, had collapsed as well, pale and shaking uncontrollably. He knew in his very soul that those had been James Potter's last words, and it broke his heart as tears ran unchecked down his face.

The twins, having experience with two younger siblings, tried to console Harry as best they could, only knowing that the words he'd just said were not part of the plan, and had obviously deeply affected their young friend. They understood enough without recognizing Harry's fathers' voice, and rightly assumed that Harry honestly remembered his parents dieing moments.

Across the room the reactions were varied, Professors Sprout, Flitwick and McGonagall had also broken down in tears, all stoicism and professionalism forgotten. They too had reached the conclusion Remus had, while McGonagall had also recognized James Potter's voice emanating from his son's mouth, and it had shaken her to her core.

Dumbledore, who had also recognized the late Potter Patriarch's voice, had come very close to a heart attack. His hand clutched at his chest as his eyes stared at the boy sobbing in the hospital bed. He had no idea how the boy had channelled his father's voice, but for him to remember something like that was terrifying.

Snape's reaction, however, was the most astounding. Hearing the voice of his childhood tormentor, and he had no doubt it was genuine, sacrificing himself for a woman that Severus had loved, and still loved, dearly, allowed him to finally let go of the hate and jealousy he'd harboured for the dead man for over a decade. His already pallid face had whitened further at the thought that had the boy continued, he could very well have heard Lily's dieing words. It was something he never wanted to hear and produced within him a feeling he'd never imagined he'd have, sympathy towards a Potter.

Through it all the chubby man still lay, obliviously, on the Hospital Wing floor. Suddenly, from Madame Pomphry's office came the teary eyed matron herself. She rushed over to Harry's bedside and gently pulled him into a hug, mindful of the lingering soreness in his chest. He clutched her to himself like a drowning man and sobbed all the harder.

Poppy's appearance shook the five professors from their stupors and goaded them into action. Dumbledore stood and shot ropes form his wand, trussing Pettigrew up like a Christmas turkey. Remus added his own ropes as well. They had planned to reveal to all the heads of house that Pettigrew was the secret keeper, so Dumbledore couldn't sweep it under the rug, but the method had left Remus somewhat numb. He had expected that he would never hear his best friends' voice outside a pensieve, and to have it come from a boy who was almost his physical double had Remus suffering terrible flashbacks. He soldered through it, however, and continued with the plan.

"Dumbledore, we have to take this to the DMLE. If Harry's memory is correct, then Sirius is innocent. We have to get him out of that place." His exclamations were met with agreement from, surprisingly, all four Heads of House, and Dumbledore's tentative plan to use Severus' hatred of Sirius Black to distract the others enough for him to send a discrete memory charm to the still stunned man, was ended before it began.

"Right, I'll floo Amelia." Minerva declared; standing and wiping her eyes with a tartan laced hankie. She strode purposefully to the fireplace and had called and reached the Department Head before Dumbledore could get his ducks in a row. Meanwhile, the other three heads had added their own ropes, so that the only thing that was visible was his easily recognizable face.

In no time at all Amelia Bones had confirmed the bound mans' identity and whisked him away for questioning at the Ministry. Harry, Remus, Poppy, and the Weasley twins bade the Professors goodbye as they left the Hospital Wing and finally were able to relax. Justice would be done, soon.


	15. 15 A Sirius Matter

Harry Potter and the Spirits Within

Chapter 15: A Sirius Matter

_Summary: The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son._

_Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own (or live in, magic rocks) the 'Potterverse' … I do not._

_**A/N: Sorry for the long wait, RL and the acquisition of a part time job have sucked a lot of my time away. There is a semi-vague reference to a great recent movie/musical in the first part of this chapter. Digital props to the first commenter to discover it.**_

On a pitiful spit of blackened rock, in the middle of a perpetually torrential sea, sat the Wizarding prison: Azkaban. Contained in a cell deep within this prison, sat a black Irish wolfhound, who was also an innocent man. For ten years he had sat, either as a dog or as a man, waiting for an absolution that would seem never to come. He had had few visitors over the past decade of life unlived, so when a visitor came one cold and dreary day, he immediately took notice and stood in the middle of his cell.

The bars of his cell, so solid and ever-present melted away to admit a middle aged, monocled, woman bearing a rolled parchment and a thick woollen blanket. Draping the blanket over her arm, she unfurled the parchment and read aloud, "Prisoner 24601, Sirius Black, son of Orion and Walburga Black, last scion of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, is hereby found innocent of all crimes for which he was arrested. He is forthwith released from Azkaban Prison and given full restitution for his unlawful incarceration, on this day December 21, 1991."

Madame Amelia Bones, Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, rolled the parchment back up, placed it into the numb fingers of the newly freed inmate, and draped the blanket around his shoulders. As she led the haggard man from the damp, stone room, his eyes remained fixed on the parchment in his hand. Through the passageways, past the other prisoners, his gaze never wavered. It was not until he was sitting in the boat headed back to the mainland, that he raised his eyes and finally spoke.

"How?"

"Peter Pettigrew was discovered to be hiding in the form of a rat within Hogwarts. Remus Lupin discovered him by accident when demonstrating the Animagus Revealing spell to a pair of twin third years … and Harry Potter." She told him gently.

"Harry! How is he? When can I see him?" He asked desperately.

"Well he's seen better days, as a matter of fact, though he will be released from the Hospital Wing today. You can see him soon, after you've had a once over by a Healer." She said, helping him from the boat and leading him to the Apparition Point.

"What was he doing in the Hospital Wing? What happened to him?" Sirius asked, frantically, after the squeezing feeling of apparition had passed.

"That is a rather convoluted story, and I'm afraid I don't have all the information on it. He was the victim of a cursed object during a Quidditch match and sustained an injury to the torso. He has needed several weeks of recuperation, but he is now fully recovered and ready for a Christmas spent with his Godfather." Madame Bones explained, now leading him through St. Mungos.

"He wants to see me?" Sirius asked, awed.

"He is most excited to see you, I'm told. He has talked of nothing else since learning of your incarceration." She said with a small smile.

"I-Does-He remembers me?" He stammered.

"Oh, quite well apparently, I'm told he has a photographic memory and can even remember parts of his childhood, you included." She chuckled slightly, "He gave Remus Lupin quite a turn when he called him 'Moony'.

Sirius paled slightly, "If he remembers that far back, does he remember _that night_?"

Madame Bones grew sombre, "From what I've gathered and what was revealed when Pettigrew was discovered, he remembers that night very well. I wanted to wait to tell you this until you had recuperated somewhat, but it has been all over the papers, so you would find out regardless. I, for one, would rather you hear the truth than the outlandish claims the Prophet is making."

They entered a private room and she sat the former prisoner on the bed before taking I seat in the only available chair and continuing.

"When Pettigrew was discovered, young Mr. Potter had what we assume is a flashback, and somehow channelled his father." She said softly.

Sirius' eyes grew wide, and his mouth hung open in shock as Madame Bones continued, "He spoke in his fathers voice, saying what we can only assume were his final words from that night. There was a recording made of the Hospital Wing incident in a Pensieve Memory Sphere for Pettigrew's trial. Multiple sources confirmed that it was indeed James Potter's voice, emanating from his son. I do not want to tell you what he said; I would have liked to spare you that. However, it is still all anyone can talk about, so you're bound to find out." She took a breath and looked into the sorrowful eyes of Sirius Black, "'_Lily! Take Harry and run! It's him, Pettigrew betrayed us! Run! I'll hold him off!'"_

Sirius' head dropped into his hands as tears leaked from his eyes. He cried for the loss of his best friend and the pain felt by his Godson. He cried for the years lost and the betrayal felt afresh. Madame Bones stood, placed a hand to his shoulder in sympathy, and left the man to his tormented thoughts.

~*o o*~

Four days later, Christmas Day found Harry twitchy with a double dose of pent up energy. Both he and James were greatly anticipating seeing Sirius again and only Lily's calm demeanour prevented Harry from pacing to floor like a caged animal. He sat in a high-backed chair in Madame Bones' headquarters, having refused to have his reunion in the Headmasters office. Once he had calmed from his brief 'possession', and finally gotten his father to stop apologizing for doing it, he had rounded on Dumbledore in a fit of anger and blamed the aged Headmaster for Sirius' wrongful incarceration.

A few short months ago an accusation like that, in front of the four House Heads, would have received an immediate rebuke from three of the four in defence of the accused and a scathing reply from the last. That they didn't come was almost more of a shock to the Old Man than the accusation itself. He blinked owlishly at his co-workers before attempting to come to his own defence,

"Mr. Potter," he began, but Harry was having none of it.

"No Sir," he interrupted before delving his hand into the drawer on his bedside table. He soon produced a much-folded piece of parchment and carefully unfolded it before waving it at the group, allowing them to see that it was his Hogwarts acceptance letter, before reading the top of the letter,

"'HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc, Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards) Dear Mr. Potter, We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.' And so on." He said, placing the letter back in the drawer. "You had the power of your positions to ensure he got a fair trial. I know that Sirius never even got a trial at all. What is the point of giving you all that responsibility if you don't actually follow the law?"

Of course, Dumbledore had refused to answer him, preferring to twist words and shovel platitudes. Though he had luckily not asked _how_ Harry knew of Sirius' lack of judgement. So Harry did the only thing he could in that situation to get his feelings known, snub the Chief Warlock. Now Harry sat, his fingers nervously drumming, his foot incessantly tapping, waiting for the door to open and admit his much-anticipated Godfather.

~*o o*~

When Sirius Black finally did walk through the door and lay eyes on his Godson for the first time in ten years, the first thing he couldn't help but notice was that Harry had remarkably good posture. He had been given a more in depth synopsis of Harry's injuries and rightly assumed that the perfect poise was due to having to keep his torso absolutely straight whilst healing. Never again would anyone accuse Harry Potter of slouching.

Naturally, Sirius next noticed, as everyone who knew the elder Potters did, that he looked remarkably like James. Madame Bones, who had come in behind him with a small red bag, had forewarned him about the resemblance, but it was still a shock to his system. And he was about to get a bigger shock when the young doppelganger spoke, "Padfoot! How's my favourite Dogfather!"

Madame Bones steered the bemused man into the seat next to his Godson, then sat herself behind her desk, and placed the bag on it. For a few long moments, the two men before her just stared quietly at one another, Sirius in shock and Harry in amusement. Suddenly, in a move that made her jolt horribly, Sirius let out a shout and seized Harry 'round the middle, dragging him into a bear hug to rival Molly Weasley's infamous rib-crushers. After setting Harry back in the chair, and sitting back down himself, Sirius grabbed his Godson's hands and asked the first of many questions, "Do you like to play pranks?"

~*o o*~

Amelia would have loved to allow the two to spend hours catching up and reminiscing together, but she felt that they would forgive her interruption when they found out exactly what was in the red bag she had brought with her.

Opening the bag, she withdrew several large, brightly wrapped packages. Placing them on the desk in front of the two men, she cleared her throat to get their attention. The look of surprised joy on the face of Mr. Potter caused all professionalism to vanish from the Department Head as she sat forward in her chair and slid a particular parcel closer to Harry.

"This one is from Justin and Ernie." She explained.

Harry gently, reverently, picked up the gift, his first ever 'real' present. He'd had surprises from his parents, but they were always memories, or created within the mindscape, and thus unable to leave it. This was his first tangible gift since turning two years old. A beautifully wrapped rectangular box in golden yellow wrapping with black badgers frolicking all over it, the paper paid homage to their shared house. Gingerly he opened it revealing a beautiful, burnished copper dragon hide vest.

"It's from a Peruvian Vipertooth. Your Friends want you never to experience that kind of injury again. You should wear this under your normal clothing; notice how it appears seamless? You can slip it on over your head like a t-shirt, and will conform to your musculature and grow with you. It's the basic magic of the hide. It's also the reason Dragons don't shed like other reptiles."

Harry looked as if he wanted to put it on immediately, James was all for it while Lily stressed that he open the rest of his gifts first, and he eventually set it aside in a conjured box.

His next present was a largish square box, gaily wrapped in ruby red paper glittering with flitting golden snitches; the tag showed that it was from Neville, dean and Seamus. Smiling widely Harry carefully opened the gift. Inside the box was a miniature Quidditch Pitch, complete with stands and a full set of miniscule balls. The stands were coloured in the House standards. However, there were instructions detailing how to change them to reflect the owners' preferred team. The Pitch could also be expanded (it was in its storage size to start with) to roughly the size of a small settee.

Draco and Blaise's gift came next and was of course, wrapped in emerald green paper with moving silver snakes. This gift showed just how different the School Houses were now, as opposed to even last year, never mind a decade ago. For it was obvious that the Slytherins had coordinated with the Gryffindors, to give complementary gifts. Within the Slytherins shoebox size parcel, was a matched set of fourteen Quidditch player figurines, seven in white robes and seven in black robes. The robes, like the stands of the Pitch, could be changed to represent the teams of the owners' choice. Even the figurines' gender and features (like their hair length and hair and skin colour) could be changed to 'accurately represent your favourite teams'. Harry was thrilled with the combo gifts and he and Sirius were ready to start a game right there in the office.

Reluctantly, he set the figures aside and moved on to the gift from Hermione and Padma. Picking up the cobalt blue covered bundle, with wiggling bronze quills, Harry could tell that their gift to him was a book. Removing the wrapping, Harry discovered a very thick book on wandless magic. Inside the front cover was a note from the Ravenclaw girls:

Harry,

We don't know if you realize it, but you did wandless magic that day in the stands. Accidental magic stops when a witch or wizard gets their wand, giving their magic something to focus through. In addition, your burst of magic was far too specific for it to have been accidental. What you wanted to have happen was exactly what did happen, and accidental magic doesn't do that. Not many people know it, but when you slowed Marcus Flint down and tried to affect the bewitched broom, you also shielded Draco and Justin with wandless shields. We think you should explore this and found this book for you. Good Luck!

Love,

Hermione and Padma

Harry only had four presents left. The first was from the Weasley Twins and was wrapped in bright neon yellow paper. Opening it revealed a load of Honeydukes finest (and weirdest) confections as well as a smaller, lumpy package wrapped in brown paper. The item in this package brought tears to Harry's eyes. Within the brown wrappings was an emerald green, obviously handmade, woolly jumper, a Molly Weasley special. Smiling Harry moved on to the next one, a gift from Sirius. The gift was rather obvious as it was long, thin, and broom shaped, Harry opened it excitedly regardless. Sirius himself was bouncing in his chair across from Harry. Within the confines of the red and gold striped paper was a shining new Nimbus 2000. Harry carefully set the broom beside the box of his other opened gifts and grabbed his Godfather in a great bear hug.

"I bought a matching one for myself so we can fly together. Would you like that?"

Too choked with emotion enough for three, Harry could only nod vigorously.

Harry sat back and plucked up his second to last present, this one from Remus. Feeling the shape of the cream and purple wrapped gift Harry assumed it was another book. However, upon opening it Harry discovered, not a book, but a photo album. Lifting the cover revealed page after page of photographs of James and Lily in Hogwarts, at their wedding, and at their home with a baby Harry. The Potter's themselves, within Harry's mind, were overcome and tears ran unchecked down all three Potter faces as Harry paged through the album. Harry, of course, had seen the memories associated with almost every photo, but to have tangible memories of his parents and him together, things he could share with his friends, was priceless to him.

After what seemed an age, Harry set the album aside and reached for his last gift, a very light parcel wrapped in shimmery gold paper. Opening the gift had extreme, yet varied, reactions from those assembled. For, within the confines of gilded wrappings, was a silvery invisibility cloak that was _very_ familiar to four of them. Though Amelia had never seen the cloak before, she knew what one was and how expensive they were.

Sirius was stunned almost into shock. After all the last time he had seen that cloak, James had been disappearing under it. Harry and the Potters were aghast, the last they knew it had been in Dumbledore's possession. Why the old fool would be returning it now was very suspicious to them. Lifting the cloak out of the wrappings caused a note to flutter to the floor at Sirius' feet. Picking it up, Sirius read out, "_Your father left this in my possession before he died, it is time it was returned to you._"


End file.
